


The Sorting

by KathSilver



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: EWE, Everything is canon up until the epilogue, F/M, Hogwarts Eighth Year, So kind of an AU I guess
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-06-27
Updated: 2015-11-24
Packaged: 2017-11-08 17:26:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 31
Words: 88,610
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/445661
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KathSilver/pseuds/KathSilver
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dumbledore stated that sometimes he thought students were sorted too soon, Minerva McGonagall took this to heart and resubmitted 7th years to be sorted again. What will happen when their world is turned upside down, and where will they find comfort?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Friend in the Fire

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! So I originally posted this story onto ff.net, but since they've been going kind of nuts with the deleting of things, I decided to back it up over here. I'll post a new chapter ever couple of days or so :)

When Harry Potter decided to share the memories that Snape had given him with Professor McGonagall, he really had no idea what the result of this might be. The only thing that he wanted to do was convince the woman to allow Snape to be buried alongside of Dumbledore, something that she had blatantly refused to do without Harry providing proof that Severus had not murdered the man that she had so loved and respected, out of cold blood. Oh, Dumbledore’s portrait had told her this, of course, but it is one thing to be told a thing and another to see it with one’s own eyes.

And so, as soon as the new Hogwarts Headmistress had agreed to his proposal, Harry didn’t give any of it another thought. If he had, then he might have noticed the thoughtful, and slightly disturbed, look that befell her face after returning from her glimpse into the past. There was something that Dumbledore had said that had particularly thrown her off balance.

_You know, Severus, sometimes I think we sort too soon._

_Sometimes I think we sort too soon._

_Sort too soon._

_Sort too soon._

The words echoed in her mind, dancing softly back and forth like some sort of demented lullaby. Minerva stared at the sorting hat in her office for hours, contemplating an idea as though it were a fine wine. Slowly swishing it about her mouth to get the real taste of it, understanding its many levels, and deliberating its worth. Breathing deeply, she craned her neck slightly to the left to see the portrait of Albus Dumbledore himself smiling down at her, his eyes twinkling slightly in a knowing fashion. Even as a painting, the man still seemed to know exactly what is was that was running through her mind.

She continued staring, waiting for some sort of guidance, until she thought he gave the slightest nod of his head before closing his eyes to sleep. With that, Minerva grabbed her quill and rolled it between her fingers, allowing one bemused thought to cross her mind before she set to work.

_At this rate, people will think that I am as mad as the man I studied under._

Shaking her head slightly at the thought, she began to write with fervor. She had some rather important owls to send in the morning.

**August 12th**

Hermione Granger was exhausted. Never mind the fact that she’d had a full 8 hours of slumber the night before, she was still every bit as bone weary as she was a week ago, when she had finally returned home from Australia with her parents in tow. The long, arduous journey searching for them would no doubt continue to weigh on her for days to come, but in the long run it was completely worth it.

Proof of this sat down at the table in front of her, glass of orange juice and muggle newspaper in hand. Hermione smiled warmly at her father and was about to ask what was for breakfast, when her fireplace roared to life and an irate Ginny Weasley began shouting Hermione’s name from the sitting room.

“Mione!” Hermione winced at the name Ginny had adopted from her brother and Hermione’s now ex-boyfriend. “MIONE!”

“Alright, just a moment!” she shouted back. She jumped up from her seat and, with an apologetic look towards her father, ran to the sitting room to answer her friend’s cries.

The look on Ginny’s face was enough to stop Hermione in her tracks and cause all of the blood to drain from her face. “What is it? What’s wrong?” she whispered, wondering as soon as the words escaped her lips if she truly wanted to know the answer.

“Have you gotten an owl from Hogwarts, yet?”

Hermione opened her mouth to answer, but before she could a large barn owl flew through her window and extended her leg. Ginny nodded for her friend to take it, and read the news for herself. It took longer than it should have to remove the post, but her fingers were shaking hard out of fear for what it was she was going to read. What would have Ginny so upset?

Quickly as she could, she broke the Hogwarts seal and began to read. Hermione gasped and the letter fell to the ground with a heavy clunk, as Hermione stood petrified. It read:

_Dear Ms. Granger:_

_As you have already been informed, due to the rather unique circumstances surrounding last term all students who were in their 7 th year are being required to return to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry on September first via the Hogwarts Express. These students will merge with this term’s 7th years to simply create a larger year and allow all students to complete their N.E.W.T. levels._

_Additionally, this year we will be attempting a small experiment. Each student in this new, combined 7 th year will be required to once again put on the Sorting Hat and be resorted into your Houses. Some students will remain in their previous House, while we suspect that many others will find a new home._

_It is our hope that by doing this, it will promote House unity, as many students will likely be separated from those they have known for years, and will wish to continue this bond. In previous years, students have been allowed to challenge the Sorting Hat, and request or deny a certain House. This will not be the case this year, as many students would be likely to try to force themselves to remain in their previous Houses. _

_Please note that upon receiving this letter, and charm was cast to change the color and badge of your current robes to the Hogwarts crest and simple black. Do not be alarmed. Upon sorting your robes will change to suite that of your new House._

_Additionally, Ms. Granger, I would like to congratulate you and inform you that you have been selected as Head Girl. Enclosed is your badge, which, again, will change color to suit your new House upon sorting._

_Sincerely,_

_Minerva McGonagall, Headmistress_

Hermione stared at Ginny in horror.

\----------------------------------------------------------

**September 1 st**

The mood that day on the Hogwarts Express was a somber one. The group of friends in the compartment was at a loss for words as they stared at the robes they were all wearing.

 Black. Plain black. Their ties were black, too. It was as if the past 7 years had not existed and all ties and connections to the Houses they had grown to love were gone.

It was Luna who broke the silence first.

“Congratulations on getting Head, Hermione,” Luna stated blandly. Then, her shoulders picked up a little as she shared another little bit of news. “I overheard some Slyth- erm; well I guess they’re just students now aren’t they? Anyway, I overheard some students saying that Draco Malfoy got Head too.”

Each head in the compartment looked up- Hermione groaned. As if there needed to be anything else to make her heart feel as if it were a stone.

“As least you’ll be able to keep him in check, Hermione,” Neville supplied. He even tried to go in for a smile, but it ended up coming out weak.

Hermione gave him a look of gratitude for trying, at least.

Over in the corner, legs on Harry’s lap, Ginny chortled with mirth before busting out into full on laughter.

“What in the name of Merlin’s Baggy Y-Fronts is funny about that slimy git getting Head Boy?” Ron asked, looking at his sister as if she had finally gone round the bend.

“Oh- it- it’s just,” she gasped out. “I had this vision of Malfoy getting sorted into Hufflepuff!”

There was a beat of silence as this image formed in everyone’s mind before the entire compartment burst into outrageous laughter. For that one moment, everything was how it used to be, and they were able to forget the heavy moment that was approaching them.

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

**The Feast**

Nervousness had Hermione shaking, though she was doing her best to hide it. The first years had just been sorted, and now it was their turn. Again.

Silently she cursed herself as wave after wave of fear penetrated her mind. She was Hermione Granger for Godric’s sake! She had faced torture and Death Eater’s and Voldemort, yet here she was glaring at an old hat as stone formed in her stomach.

Immediately she was reminded of her first year, surely she had been this afraid then, too? But no. She had merely been excited; not knowing to what depth the sorting would change her life forever. Well, she certainly knew now, and that was the entire problem!

The Great Hall was more silent than it had ever been, the tension so thick she could feel it weighing down on her, making her bones feel like wax. And then, McGonagall spoke, calling out the first name of the 7th years: Terry Boot.

He walked up to the pedestal, sat, placed the Hat upon his head and waited.

“RAVENCLAW!”  The Hat shouted, and off Terry went, sighing in relief.

From that point on things seemed to move so quickly for Hermione that her eyes seemed to stop working. All she remembered were names, and the Houses being called. She remembered shock, and gasps, but barely. The only thing she was really clinging to, were the names.

“Bulstrode, Millicent.”

“HUFFLEPUFF!”

“Corner, Michael.”

“RAVENCLAW!”

“Finch-Fletchley, Justin.”

“RAVENCLAW!”

“Finnegan, Seamus.”

“RAVENCLAW!”

“Goldstein, Anthony.”

“HUFFLEPUFF!”

“Goyle, Gregory.”

“HUFFLEPUFF!”

This was it. The next name to be called would be hers. What was she going to do? Panic start to set in, she could swear her body was going to shut down. So many people had been displaced already, what are the chances? But surely, if she were to be displaced, she would go to Ravenclaw? That wouldn’t be too bad... She could handle-

“Granger, Hermione.”

Her body seemed to do what was required without any help from her mind. Outside, she was brave and collected. On the inside she was screaming.

But then the Hat was on her head and she heard nothing else, but it speaking to her.

_Hm... You again I see. Brave and loyal as always…_

At this she clung to a small bead of hope that grew in her chest.

_Thirst for knowledge, the strong desire to prove yourself. Where to put you, my dear? You’ve proven yourself to be quick thinking and cunning, you’ve also proven that you’re willing to do anything to reach your goal… hm…_

And then, she knew. She knew what was going to happen, the second before it did, and she felt as if her world had just been shattered to bits.

“SLYTHERIN!”

Her mouth opened in a silent gasp of horror, and tears began to form in her eyes and she took off the Sorting hat and stood. Jaws had dropped all over the Great Hall, everyone was stunned into silence. Hermione began to shake, and then the crest on her robes changed. Then she saw green appear on her robes, and her tie, and on her Head Girl badge.

She searched the crowd for Harry and Ginny, despair evident on her face as a single tear leaked down her cheek. Ginny looked heartbroken at first, but then defiant, giving a small nod of encouragement for her best friend. Harry smiled up at her warmly, clearly saying that this didn’t change a thing. She couldn’t find Ron’s face in the crowd through her tears.

Suddenly she felt very stupid. How would being sorted into Slytherin change their friendship? After all that they had been through together, for such a thing to happen would be impossible. Breathing a little bit easier, she walked stoically to her new table on wobbling legs, and sat. Hiding her devastation as best she could, Hermione watched the sorting continue.

“Greengrass, Daphne.”

“GRYFFINDOR!”

“Longbottom, Neville.”

“GRYFFINDOR!”

“Lovegood, Luna.”

“RAVENCLAW!”

“Macmillon, Ernie.”

“RAVENCLAW!”

“McDougal, Morag.”

“HUFFLEPUFF!”

“Malfoy, Draco.”

Hermione watched this closely, for she remembered well how quickly his sorting went the first time, and was stunned when his took even longer than hers had. Finally, the answer rang out.

“GRY- SLYTHERIN!”

Once again, there was shock as each and every person in the Great Hall tried to remember if there had ever been a time when the Sorting Hat had changed its mind mid-decision. Hermione was pretty sure that it had never happened before. She watched as Malfoy sauntered over to where she sat, her heart beating faster in her chest. She was openly staring, but she didn’t really see him. Instead her mind called up the memory of being tortured by Bellatrix in his drawing room. Sweat broke out on her forehead.

Her eyes opened a little wider in fear as her sat down in the seat directly across from her, he raised an eyebrow at her, but said nothing.

The Sorting continued.

“Nott, Theodore.”

“GRYFFINDOR!”

“Parkinson, Pansy.”

“SLYTHERIN!”

“Patil, Padma.”

“GRYFFINDOR!”

“Patil, Parvati.”

“GRYFFINDOR!”

“Potter, Harry.”

The room seemed to hold its breath-

“GRYFFINDOR!”

Harry sent Hermione a grand smile as he went to the table that now seemed so far away from her. Would she really be the only former Gryffindor in a pack of Slytherin’s? Could McGonagall not see that this was dangerous for her health?

“Smith, Zacharias.”

“SLYTHERIN!”

“Thomas, Dean.”

“SLYTHERIN!”

Dean made a bee-line for Hermione and sat down right next to her. She breathed a sigh of relief; she wasn’t going to be alone. Underneath the table she held on to his hand as if her very life depended on it. He did the same.

“Turpin, Lisa.”

“HUFFLEPUFF!”

“Weasley, Ginerva.”

“GRYFFINDOR!”

“Weasley, Ronald.”

“HUFFLEPUFF!”

Hermione chuckled at the look on his face, but overall she thought it was quite accurate. She had not forgotten that he had abandoned Harry and Herself on the hunt for Horcruxes. He didn’t deserve to be in Gryffindor.

“Zabini, Blaise.”

“SLYTHERIN!”

And with that, the sorting was complete. The blood rushed in Hermione’s ears when the food appeared on the tables. Somehow, up until that point she hadn’t believed that it was real, that it was all a game that would be rectified easily.

She sat there in her horror, clutching to Dean for dear life as she made a strange observation- The Sorting Hat had hadn’t given them a song, this year.


	2. Near Miss

**Draco’s POV:**

Draco was doing his best to seem unaffected by what was going on around him; he couldn’t afford to show his emotions to the world. No one was allowed to know that he was grateful just to be allowed to walk into Hogwarts once more, that he had only been one step away from being dragged away to join his bloody fool of a father in Azkaban.

It has been his mother that had saved the both of them, and Scarhead’s testimony to that fact which had cemented their quasi-freedom. Bile rose into Draco’s mouth as that thought ran rampant through his mind.

_He owed his life and freedom to Harry Potter._

If possible, this only made Draco hate the man even more; he hated owing debts- especially to bleeding heart Gryffindors.

So lost was he, in his thoughts about the fate he had so narrowly escaped, that he didn’t even notice when two of his housemates were sorted into somewhere else. He didn’t notice a thing until something lightly brushed past his shoulder and a large mass of hair walked up the stone steps to place the Sorting Hat upon her head.

Draco scoffed and rolled his eyes. Yes, yes, the sodding Mudblood would go back in Gryffindor and all would be right in the world and he could go right back to making her life miser-

“SLYTHERIN!”

His heart stopped beating in his chest as he stared up in disgust. The entire Hall was silent. Had the entire world gone barmy? She was a MUDBLOOD. She was _dirty._

And he had never seen her look more terrified than in that moment.

His brow furrowed slightly as he watched her walk towards the Slytherin table as if she were walking towards her death sentence. Which, in her mind, she probably was. He chewed his cheek lightly in deep thought, wondering how much this would change things. Maybe Draco should start paying more attention to the Sorting, if things were going to end up being this interesting.

Greengrass? Gryffindor? What did the damn war do, hand out personality transplants? For the first time since he had read his letter, Draco had started to waver in his resolve.

What would happen to him if he were moved? Would any other House tolerate him? With all of the enemies that he had made, somehow he didn’t think that it was beneficial for his well-being to be moved out of Slytherin.

With an itch of uneasiness he thought he might suddenly have an understanding of what Granger must be feeling at the moment. But then, did he really think that he had much to worry about?

He hadn’t changed since the War, had he? There was nothing different about him… sure he didn’t want all the mudbloods and muggles to be exterminated, but he still didn’t like them. Surely just not wanting a people to be eradicated wasn’t enough grounds to remove him from Slytherin, was it?

Certainly not, because if that were the case than holier-than-thou Granger wouldn’t have been shoved off into Slytherin…. Why the FUCK was she in Slytherin?! What was the reasoning?!

Bloody Hat was losing its touch, if you asked him.

“Malfoy, Draco.”

Fuck.

Up he went to sit on that sodding stool for the second time in his life; although this time something was decidedly different. The last time, the Hat had barely touched his head before an answer was shouted across the Hall.

This time, however, the Hat sat and deliberated for quite a while.

_Well, well, Mr. Malfoy. What a change you have undergone…_

What? Change, what change? There had been no bloody change! He was Draco Malfoy, pure-blood, and a Slytherin through and through!

_Bravery, you have shown Mr. Malfoy… and such compassion that I had never thought possible…_

What in Salazar’s name was it talking about! Bravery? Compassion?  Draco panicked as he tried to relive the past year in his mind… he saw nothing. Nothing that would lead the Hat to draw such conclusions. His pulse began to race through his body as fear clogged his throat. If he was put into Gryffindor then he wouldn’t survive the night.

He knew the hat was about to make his decision, he had to do something quick, before the worst possible thing could happen to him. He felt the Hat shift on his head as it opened the seam on its front to speak,

“GRY-“

 _If you let me stay in Slytherin I’ll watch over the Granger girl! PLEASE!_  Draco thought quickly, putting all of his resolve into that single thought, clinging to what might be his last chance in desperation.

“-SLYTHERIN!”

Draco heaved a sigh of relief as he staggered from the pedestal and down the stone steps towards his table. His robes changed back to the usual color, and he had to take a moment to think about what he had promised in order to keep his skin intact- he had to watch over Granger. Speaking of Granger, as he neared his table Draco looked up to see something that almost made him pause for a moment.

The Mudblood was sitting in his seat.

About to order her to move, he looked up into her face for a moment. Although her composer was held in a mask that any Slytherin could be proud of, for just the briefest moment her eyes widened ever so slightly in fear.

Instantly Draco thought of how he had felt before he was resorted, and then he remembered his promise.

Draco Malfoy may be nothing else, but he was a man of his word.

He raised his eyebrow at her, and took a place opposite of when he normally sat before returning his attention to the Sorting.

The rest of it passed by in a blur. He was glad Pansy was joining him once again, but his world was rocked when yet _another_ mudblood was placed in Slytherin. His eyes followed Thomas as he sat next to Granger and the two seemed to cling together, as if they were parted then their lives were forfeit. Which, to be quite honest, might not be too far off of the mark.

A small shudder ran across his shoulders as he realized that both of the former Gryffindors sitting in front of him had, at one point in time, been held captive at his home.

Judging by the looks on their faces, they hadn’t forgotten it either.

Blaise joined Draco and Pansy, signaling the end of the sorting. As the feast began to fill their plates, Draco couldn’t help but notice that the two figures sitting in front of him had yet to move. Pansy nudged him in the ribs, Draco turned to find both Blaise and Pansy staring at him, questioning looks upon both of their faces, as if to say, what are we supposed to do about this? Draco thought for a moment, looking the new additions over.

Granger had definitely lost some weight over the last year, the result making her cheekbones stand out higher on her slim face. She was tanned, naturally, and the color of her skin seemed to throw her few visible scars into sharp relief- and he knew exactly where the small one on her neck had come from.  Ignoring the memories that fought to surface at seeing that scar, he continued his appraisal of her. Her hair, once so bushy, now seemed slightly relaxed and fell in soft brown curls well past her shoulders. Her wide mocha eyes seemed to be struggling with their owner not to hide their devastation.  She would actually be something to look at once she stopped looking like she was about to be executed. Thomas didn’t look so good either.

His two friends were still staring at him, waiting for him to take the lead; somehow Draco knew that the first words spoken would set the tone for the entire year.

“You know, the food at this table isn’t poisoned. You’re going to want to eat something, you’ve got a long night ahead of you- a growling stomach won’t do much to help you with that.” Draco made an attempt at a smile the two sitting in front of him; he could swear that he saw Pansy and Blaise relax fractionally to his right.

 

**Hermione’s POV:**

She was startled at Malfoy’s words, so much so that she actually jerked a little bit, before gaining control of herself once again. Hermione worked to slow her breathing before she turned her eyes upon him, simultaneously releasing her death grip on Dean’s fingers.

Malfoy had certainly seen better days, but his aristocratic features looked the same as they always had. His hair looked soft and silky; he wore it loose now, so that it fell over his eyes instead of slicking it back on his head. She briefly wondered if he did that to try and hide the dark circles that had nested under his eyes. His eyes that seemed so guarded as he addressed Dean and herself.

“I wasn’t aware that you cared about our well-being,” She answered primly, working to ensure that her voice didn’t waver. “As a matter of fact, the last time I checked you would have been excited for the detriment of it.”

She heard Dean swallow loudly beside her and despite her words she did finally bring herself to eat. As much as she hated to admit it, Malfoy was right. She was going to need as much strength as she could get to get out of this alive. She looked up as she took a bite of chicken and noticed something pass through Malfoy’s eyes as she did so.

Satisfaction? She gave up guessing in order to search for the pitcher of pumpkin juice, only to find Pansy Parkinson, of all people, handing her a full goblet of it.

“Things change,” grunted Zabini.

“You’re one of us now,” Pansy supplied, setting the goblet down before her.

For a brief space of time, Hermione had thought that maybe things were going to be okay. That was before she reached her hand out to grab the goblet, and it exploded.

“Have you lot gone mad?!” shouted a Slytherin sixth year. His face was twisted into a shade of puce, and his wand arm shook at Hermione and Dean while he glared at Pansy. “She’s a _MUDBLOOD_! She could never be one of us! We should kill her where she sits! We should-“

BANG.

When the smoke cleared, all that could be seen was the shaking form of Hermione Granger who stood, wand arm extended, glaring at the figure plastered to the wall opposite them. There were a few beats of silence that Hermione took to reevaluate her actions.

But she had been so _angry_ once he had started screaming at her. And then when he called her that _filthy_ word and threatened to kill her, she had felt an almost debilitating rush of fear, and that had been what had finally set her off. She had spent the past year being constantly in fear for her life, and now Hermione Jean Granger was sick and tired of being afraid.

So she was stuck in a House that mainly wanted her dead, so what? She was done being afraid, she was a Gryffindor, and Gryffindors weren’t afraid. Despite what that ruddy Hat said, she was still a Gryffindor.

“Well, Ms. Granger, I do believe it is time to let Mr. Daival down off of the wall so that I might give the start of term announcements, don’t you think?”  McGonagall was standing at the podium and waiting patiently, her lips almost invisible due to the thin line they were pressed in.

“Yes, Headmistress.” Hermione said curtly.

With a flick of her wand, the boy fell unceremoniously from the wall and made his way back to his seat, glaring daggers at Hermione the entire way.

“Well, as you all may know, this is a difficult situation for everyone to be in. However, that does not mean that I will allow such unruly behavior at my school. Therefore, from this point forward, I am going to be enforcing several policies that will hopefully make the transition easier for all of you. Every night all students will be forced to join their Housemates in their common room for 2 hours, no exceptions. During breakfast and dinner, all students will be required to eat with their respective Houses, no exceptions. During classes, unless otherwise dictated by your professor, you are required to sit with your Housemates. If time shows that these arrangements are not enough, I will be forced to take more severe action.”

At this point, Hermione closed her eyes in despair, and stopped listening to the rest of the announcements which were, thankfully, a standard variation of the normal rules and regulations that Hermione had been listening to since she was 11.

The next thing she knew, the announcements were over and students were getting up, heading to their dormitories. For the second time that night, Hermione jumped at the sound of a voice. This time, however, it was the voice of the Headmistress. And it was right behind her.

“Ms. Granger, Mr. Malfoy. I need to talk to you about your living arrangements.”

Hermione could have sworn that her heart had stopped beating. Why had she and Malfoy been lumped together in that statement?! Surely that couldn’t mean…

Malfoy locked his panicked eyes with her own.

“Because the two of you live in the same house, it makes things slightly easier. The two of you shall have your own suite containing two bedrooms connected by a bathroom, your own private common room and a small kitchenette. You access your suite through the large painting in the main Slytherin common room. Your password is ‘true colors’, good night.” And without another word the Headmistress and Hermione’s former Head of House strode out of the hall.

Hermione slammed her head down on the table in defeat.

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading you guys! And to those of you who left kudos- you rock :)

**Outside the Great Hall- Pansy POV**

While the Headmistress kept Granger and Draco inside, she and Blaise had decided to wait for them outside of the doors. Off hiding in a corner, she noticed that Thomas seemed to have the same idea. This, she figured, was a smart thing for him to do considering he might not last long if he walked into the Slytherin common room without Granger.

Not that she thought he wasn’t a good fighter; he just didn’t have the reputation of being one, like Granger did.

Looking at him now, half hidden by the shadows, he looked almost dangerous. The darkness emphasized the contours of his face and made him look more attractive than he seemed to be in the light.

Well, that was some food for thought.

Pansy’s gaze was ripped from Thomas when Blaise spun her around towards him; uncertainty was plain on his smooth features.

“What were we thinking? When we said those things to Granger? What could we have possibly been thinking?” His voice went up in pitch as he squeaked out the last word, pacing.

“We were thinking that things _have_ changed and that Granger _is_ one of us,” she sighed. Blaise had been like this since the start of the war- constantly questioning his actions. It made him a real pain to hang out with, after a while.

“What’s gotten into you, Pansy? A few years ago if someone had put you in the same room as Granger it would be seconds before you were insulting everything about her…”

She cringed as she remembered. “That was fourth year, Blaise.”

Pansy remembered well the Yule Ball, she had gotten Draco all to herself and she was so excited! And then stupid Granger had to walk in and ruin everything! Instead of keeping his eyes on her, like he should have been, Draco’s eyes kept wandering over to Granger throughout the night. Never mind the fact that every guy in the Hall was doing the same thing, Draco was supposed to have eyes only for Pansy.

From that day on, Pansy had hated everything to do with muggle-born.

“Still, what the hell happened?” he asked.

What had happened? What had _happened_?! Had he been under a rock for the past year or was he really that thick?

“What happened, Blaise? The WAR happened! The fighting went on forever, or have you forgotten all of the times we took care of each other while we threw up after torturing whoever it was _He_ demanded we torture that day? A whole year filled with-with screams a-and _anger_ and fear! Well, I’m sick of it! I’m sick of fighting! Is it really too much to ask that people get along, really?” She paused really quickly to take a breath before continuing. Blaise looked gob smacked. “Did you not see Granger’s face when she was sorted? Fear. Nothing but fear. That woman shouldn’t have a damn thing to be afraid of after all she went through, yet she is terrified of having to live in Slytherin. She doesn’t deserve to have to be afraid, not after what she did for everyone. Neither does Thomas, for that matter. So _I’m_ going to do whatever is in my power to do to make this easier on them, and I can only hope that someone in Gryffindor is doing the same for Daph and Theo.”

Blaise was completely still for a moment, his eyes seemed to be searching Pansy’s for something; what, she had no idea. Whatever it was though he seemed to find it because he nodded, only once, and said,

“Good.”

Pansy was about to ask what he meant by that when they heard footsteps approaching from the Great Hall and saw Draco and Granger walking out, Granger looked utterly devastated and Pansy felt a stab of sorrow for the woman before her. But what could she do? Other than be kind and keep others from hassling her, what could she do? And what could be done for her friends in Gryffindor? Anything?

As she and Blaise went to join Draco, Pansy didn’t see that the figure in the dark she had spent so much time staring at earlier, was now staring at her.

Confusion and interest was clearly written on his face as he went to put an arm around Hermione. Dean Thomas had heard everything.

**Slytherin Common Room, Hermione’s POV**

The common room was cold.

Not just in temperature, but in its looks. It completely lacked the warmth of Gryffindor tower. It was long and walled in rough stone, and everything was tinted slightly green from the round greenish lamps hanging from the ceiling. The floor was stone, though in the middle was an emerald green rug. A fire roared in the elaborately carved mantelpiece, and all of the furniture looked classy, and hard.

And there were no windows.

There wouldn’t be, of course, because it’s in the dungeons. But what was she going to do without any windows? She felt like she was trapped in a prison and briefly wondered how long it would be before she withered and died without the sunlight. A shiver coursed through her veins, and then Hermione realized that she would probably freeze to death first.

No wonder Slytherin’s were jerks- their common room was depressing and apparently they had to spend their lives fighting off freezer burn.

Hermione looked over to Dean, who was also shivering, and noticed that he had a similar look on his face to hers. Dean then looked down at her and said, in a slightly shaky voice,

“We can do this, right?”

Hermione forced herself to put a small smile on her face before she leaned up and whispered into his ear.

“We’re Gryffindors Dean, we can do anything.”

He chuckled and she saw his body relax slightly, and by seeing him relax, she did too. They could do this.

Zabini came up to them and held his hand out to Dean, his movements stiff with uncertainty.

“Blaise Zabini, you’ll be staying in a dorm with me and Smith,” his head jerked in the direction of the former Hufflepuff who was standing just behind Zabini. “If you’d like, I can show you where?”

She saw Dean bite his lip before he held out a trembling hand to shake Zabini’s.

“Alright, yeah, that’d be great. Goodnight Hermione.” He said before following Blaise and Smith out of the common room.

Hermione stood there, feeling very uncomfortable, until Malfoy came up and tugged on her sleeve, causing her hand to reach for her wand. When she realized he was only trying to get her attention so that he could show her their rooms, she felt very foolish and put her wand back where it was. Malfoy raised an eyebrow at her.

“Sorry,” she said. She couldn’t believe she was apologizing to him, but she _had_ been rude. “Just a reflex.”

He nodded at her and then looked at the same sixth year that Hermione had hexed earlier, who just happened to be glaring daggers at her. Malfoy’s lip twitched for a moment before he spoke.

“Probably a good one for you to have, actually. Now,” he looked at the portrait of a large group of people drinking at some celebration before adding, “’True Colors’.”

The portrait opened before and Hermione stepped inside after Malfoy, her shoulders relaxed slightly as the portrait slammed shut. Something about having a room full of Slytherin’s staring at her made her feel uncomfortable. Malfoy, she could deal with, he was easy. It was the rest of them that scared her.

Their common room was small, with one large couch, two squashy arm chairs and a small table between them. All of the furniture was black and the large rug that covered most all of the floor was Slytherin green. Their mantel wasn’t very elaborate, and the fire roaring inside it caused shadows to dance over the plain stone walls. There was a single staircase leading up to the rooms and a door below it that she presumed took them into the kitchen.

Malfoy was nowhere to be seen.

 _Probably couldn’t stand being in the same room as a Mudblood._ Hermione thought savagely. She stomped up the stairs to find two doors, one of them was shut with Malfoy’s name above it, and the other was open, with hers. Rolling her eyes, she went into her own room.

She had a large four poster bed, three bookshelves, an armchair, a writing desk with matching chair and a bedside table. Everything was decked out in black and green, and Hermione felt like an outsider to these colors.

She took a brief peek into the bathroom which contained a large bath, a shower, toilet, and two sinks. Malfoy’s door was closed on the other side; she shook her head at her living situations and went to get ready for bed.

As she lay there in her bed tears streamed down her face. She had never felt so alone in her life.

How was she supposed to survive like this? How could she be in Slytherin, of all places? Hermione had always called Slytherin’s cowards and other awful things, but now she was one of them. So did that mean the she was a horrible person? Or were her opinions of Slytherin’s as cruel monsters just wrong?

With these thoughts and her tears, sleep finally came and the nightmares plagued her mind.

**Head’s Dorm, Draco’s POV**

He woke up in the middle of the night with the strong urge to piss. Groaning he sat up and blinked for a moment as he tried to remember where he was.

Sorting. Slytherin. His own room. Got it.

With a yawn he left his ridiculously comfortable bed and made his way to the bathroom. After he finished up and was washing his hands, he heard something that made his blood freeze in his veins.

Granger was screaming.

Draco sprinted to her door and tried to yank it open, but it refused to budge. Of course she would lock the door, what reason would she have to trust him, of all people? Grunting in frustration he was about to make for his wand when he noticed the words she was screaming.

_“We didn’t take anything! It’s a faaaaahhhhhh! It’s a fake, please! AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH! We never went into your vault, I swear, it’s just a copy! Noo pleaaaahhhhhhhh!!”_

He knew those screams, because those were the screams that had haunted him for nights on end. She was only dreaming, not being attacked.

But she was dreaming about the night she had been tortured right in front of him. His heart dropped down into his stomach and he collapsed to the floor, in shock. What was he supposed to do? Storm in there and wake her up? But then he doubted that she would think she was free of the nightmare, if it was his face that woke her.

Draco thought back to the moment her eyes had widened at him in fear at dinner- was this what she had been thinking about? How he had stood by and done nothing? Did she think he had enjoyed it?

He bit his lip and stood, debating about what to do, before turning and heading back into his own room and casting a silencing charm on the door so that he wouldn’t hear her.

Guiltily he thought about his claim that he would help her in order to stay in Slytherin… but he had sworn to help protect her from others… not from herself, right?

_But she doesn’t think she’s only fighting herself… in her mind she’s fighting my psychotic aunt…_

Draco punched one of his pillows and rolled over, a scowl etched upon his face. Where we these thoughts coming from? Why did he suddenly care about what the filthy mudblood dreamt about? He had only said that to the sorting hate to save his own skin, no other reason.

But that wasn’t right, was it? She wasn’t a mudblood, not anymore. She was put into _his_ house… and she was screaming. She had nightmares just like any other person, and Draco cursed. This little nighttime adventure had turned Granger into a real person for him, and he didn’t like it.

He thought back to the Yule Ball, and how he had wondered if she was a person back then, too. And then he thought about every interaction he had ever had with her, searching for signs that she was a person, and not a mudblood.

Sleep did not come for Draco that night.

 

 


	4. Chapter 4

**September 2, Draco’s POV:**

After what had seemed like hours, sleep had finally decided to try and pay him a visit. His eyelids grew heavier and heavier, he felt warmth crawl up from his toes and a smile hinted at the corners of his lips. For the tiniest space of time, his world had stopped, and he was in that wonderful dimension between sleep and wakefulness. Here, Draco was happy. For some reason it was his favorite place to be, because at least here, he was still in control. Sleeping was dangerous, you had no idea what was going on around you and if you were tired enough you could sleep through your own murder. But the middle land? It was wonderful.

And it had just been ripped away from him.

A shower? What time was it? After consulting his watch, despair washed over him. It was 6 o’clock in the bloody morning. Had he honestly spent the entire night thinking about _Granger_?! What was his problem! Draco grabbed his pillow and threw it across the room with a yell; it clipped the photo of his mother that he had sitting on his dresser and knocked to the ground where it promptly shattered.

“FUCK! Sodding hell fuck!” his curses as he cleaned up the mess he made grew unintelligible as he wondered how he could possibly get some sleep now and then gave up. It just wasn’t happening with the shower going on in the next room, and even if he did cast Silencio (his other charm had worn off as soon has he had started to drift) he was far too awake now to make any progress before breakfast time. Sitting on his bed, he waited for his turn in the shower.

Granger, he decided, was taking too damn long.

Banging on his door to the bathroom, he called out to her. “Merlin, Granger! Are you planning on spending the rest of your life in there?”

“Sod off,” came the reply.

Draco growled a low guttural sound that vibrated all the way down to his bones. If he had to be awake then he wanted a shower damn it! He sat there and glared at the door for a moment, biting his tongue as best he could and threw himself down on his bed, scowling.

After what seemed like hours (but was in reality only minutes) the water stopped. A moment or two afterwards and the magic that prevented him from entering while she was inside stopped humming. He leapt to the door and slammed it open, only to find that Granger was still in there, wrapped up in a green robe. He allowed his eyes to wander for a second before she screamed.

“Malfoy! Just what do you think you’re doing?!” Her voice really was far too shrill for this early in the morning.

“About to take a shower, Granger, is there a problem?” He smirked and began to unbutton his shirt- he saw her flush at his actions.

“Well, if you don’t mind, I’m not quite finished in here yet, so _leave!”_

“You’ve been in here for well over a century! I hate to tell you this but no matter how much you scrub away Granger you’ll never be clean, you’ll always be filthy!” His anger at being ordered to leave by her had flared up, and just like that, years and years of tormenting her had taken control. He no longer had control over his mouth, and the moment he stopped yelling, his mind caught up.

_FUCK!_

“Gran-“

“You, Malfoy, you are foul and arrogant and spiteful! You are just a cowardly man who stands by and watches things happen because he doesn’t have the backbone to do anything about! You are cruel and vile and I _hate_ you! You are just. Like. Your. _Father_!”  Granger was red faced and shaking, and just when it looked like she was going to have another go, he spoke up.

“I know,” he said in a small voice that for a second there he didn’t even realize belonged to him. Her words had struck home, repeating verbatim the ghosts that had been haunting his conscience since the war had begun. Never had he heard them out loud, but hearing them out loud, it seemed, made them real. Truth. And he just wasn’t sure how to handle that with anything other than truth. So he repeated himself, and his voice was broken.

Draco was mentally kicking himself for this, but the other part blamed Granger. Granger, who had frozen in her tracks the moment he had spoken, shock was written all over her features, and her mouth had clamped shut. Good, it’s about time someone had robbed her of her words. He wanted to make a comment on the matter, but some foreign force compelled him to say something else entirely.

“And I’m sorry,” he croaked. Draco met her eyes full on as he said this. Did that croak come from me? What in Slytherin’s name is wrong with my voice? Granger’s mouth was opening and closing, reminding him of a fish he once had as a child. It was then that he realized that he was still speaking- why hadn’t he known he was still speaking? Was he under some sort of spell?

“’I’m sorry, Granger, for everything. For being like him. I hate it.”

Draco wanted to Avada himself at this point.

 _Well, mouth? Are you done talking now? You sure? Because I think there are more confessions you could be making to try and ruin my life. You’re really sure you’re done now?_ No longer trusting his own mouth, he brought his hand up to cover his own lips so quickly that he smacked himself.

Ignoring the sting, he looked at Granger. She was struck dumb, but before he knew it she had gathered up her things and fled. He thought he might have heard her squeak something along the lines of ‘bathrooms yours’ before her mane of wet hair disappeared and the door was closed behind it.

He called himself several different kinds of idiot as he ripped off his clothing and stepped into the shower. And there, he thought.

It had only been one night and already the witch was driving him batty. First she keeps him up all night by invading his mind with her screams, and _then_ once Draco finally managed to get some rest, she woke him up again! That was why he went around spewing so much nonsense that he felt as if he might spew last night’s dinner too. If it went on like this for much longer, she’d have him eating out of the palm of her hand in a week! No, he wouldn’t allow that to happen.

He would push her away, ignore her. Just like she ignored him when he opened up for a moment back there. He would curse the hair off of her head so quickly that… Her hair. Her hair dripping wet, slung over his shoulder as he- NO!

He was NOT going have those thoughts about that stupid witch! Draco had never hated Granger more than in that moment, so much so that he punched the shower wall and screamed out in frustration. His burst gone, he began to rationalize.

He was a male, when males see semi naked women, thoughts occur in their mind. Doesn’t matter who it is- it was normal. Draco breathed a bit easier- good. Now, to keep it from happening, he had to avoid her. Easiest way to avoid her? Make _her_ want to avoid _him_ too. Excellent. Grand plan Draco, sure to be a winner!

His plan was pathetic.

**Slytherin Common Room, Hermione’s POV:**

She had gone ready so fast that she didn’t even have enough time to pay attention to the fact that she was supposed to be depressed. Instead she did what she could not to think about the bombshell that Malfoy had just dropped on her. First, he insinuates that she’s a mudblood and then he apologizes, and smacks himself in the mouth so quickly that she jumped!

What the HELL was she supposed to make of that?!

Nothing, she decided. She would pretend it hadn’t happened and she could go back to keeping Malfoy in the nice little box she had placed him in the first day she had met him. Easy.

Despite the fact that this thought should have calmed her, Hermione still raced out of the dorm and into the Slytherin common room. Or, more correctly, into a Slytherin.

“Ow! Why you stupid little- How _dare_ you touch me!” Cried a blonde fourth year whose name Hermione did not know. Hermione righted herself and began to stammer. This blonde was pink in the face with rage, and so were all three of her little friends that surrounded her. She swore they looked almost feral, so much so that their outright violence took Hermione by surprise.

As the little blonde raised her hand to hit her, Hermione reached for her wand – but she knew that she was far too slow because she was hindered by her schoolbag. Hermione braced herself for the oncoming contact, but instead she heard another female voice say quite forcefully,

“ _Down_ , bitch!”

Hermione had never been so thankful to hear Pansy Parkinson’s voice in her entire life.

**Pansy’s POV:**

She had been in the common room waiting for the Head Girl for a good 15 minutes now. Pansy hadn’t been sure what time Granger was used to getting up, so she had made sure to wake up a good hour or so before she normally did. It was rough, but she couldn’t risk Granger walking around the dungeons alone yet- and she couldn’t count on Thomas to do it. He was still new to Slytherin, and probably didn’t think they’d be trouble.

A noise to her left signaled that the portrait to the head’s dorm was opening, and she saw Granger pop out of it looking positively disgruntled, like something horrible had happened.

Inwardly Pansy groaned, what could Draco had possibly done to hurt her? And this early in the morning, too! Usually he wasn’t up at this time; he was slow to wake. Whatever he had done she was going to ring him out for it later; she wanted to help Granger, not start a third war. Speaking of…

She saw the altercation between Granger and that vapid whore, Clarissa, and had promptly come to the rescue.

“ _Down_ , bitch.” Pansy raised her wand and used it to put Clarissa in a groveling position on her knees. “Apologize to the Head Girl, Please.”

Granger looked mortified, but didn’t say a word as Clarissa stammered out an apology under Pansy’s pressure.

“Good, now go find someone new to sleep with- it should keep you busy long enough to come to your senses and see right from wrong. Though I’m not sure it’s possible for you to find someone new, considering you’ve slept with the entire school…” Pansy trailed off, smiling a sweet little smile that meant trouble. Clarissa fled.

“ _Blood traitor.”_

She whipped her head around to glare at the speaker: Nicolai Daival. He sneered at her before he and his little cronies left he dungeon. Pansy rolled her eyes before turning to Granger and speaking.

“Blaise already took Thomas down to breakfast, so there’s no point in waiting. I’d like you to come with me, if you don’t mind,” Pansy held out her hand like an olive branch, all the while searching Granger’s wide eyes for any trace of the girl she had once known. And then, by some miracle, Granger took her hand. She did the best she could to hide the surprise on her face.

“I should put you in detention for that, you know, using magic on another student…”

Pansy looked up at her and grinned, there was the Granger she knew! Still grinning, she led the way down to breakfast.


	5. Chapter 5

**Great Hall, Breakfast, Daphne’s POV:**

If anyone had told Daphne Greengrass that she would be sticking as close to the side of Ginny Weasley as she could for her own protection, she would have hexed them into next Tuesday. As it was, that seemed to be exactly what she was doing. The only thing that made her feel any better about this was the fact that Theo was sitting in between Longbottom and Potter for exactly the same reasons.

Daphne rubbed her shoulder as she glared and the Patil twins. Last night she had learned that not all Gryffindors were honorable, and that not all of them were forgiving. The Patil twins in particular seemed to be holding a rather nasty grudge, but then again they had lost their best friend Brown thanks to Greyback. In a way Daphne could see why they would hate her for once being a Slytherin.

What she couldn’t understand, however, was that Potter, Little Red, and Longbottom had taken up the cause of Theo and herself with such gusto. Her old thoughts had been confirmed, Gryffindors were indeed lunatics.

_And now I’m one of them._

With a deep sigh she took a drink out of her goblet of pumpkin juice. What Daphne really wanted was to see her little sister and Pansy again. Would they hate her?

In answer to her question, Astoria Greengrass walked into the Great Hall alongside of Nicolai and Clarissa- a bad sign. When Daphne and Astoria met eyes, her little sister mouth two words to her before sneering and walking over to the Slytherin table.

Blood traitor.

A tear began to form in Daphne’s eyes. It wasn’t her fault that she was stuck over here! It was the stupid sorting hat, and at that moment if she could have ripped it to pieces, then she would have.

“Don’t worry, Daph, she’ll come around….”  Theo said. But the fact that he had trailed off and the look on his face stated quite plainly that he knew this wasn’t so. She had lost her little sister.

“On the bright side, it looks like you’ve still got Pansy,” Potter stated as he sent a wave over to Hermione Granger, who was walking side by side with Pansy.

Daphne and Theo’s jaws dropped just as both Pansy and Hermione waved over to the Gryffindor table.

“What the bloody hell as gotten into Parkinson?!”  Ginny asked as she stared after the pair. Daphne shook her head, mouth still gaping open.

“Couldn’t agree with you more, but it’s not just her... Blaise walked in toting both Smith _and_ Thomas with him. It’s as if they’ve all been replaced by some sort of… of… of… not them, person.” Theo finished lamely.

“Eloquent,” Weasley snorted.

“Quite frankly I don’t give a damn why they’re doing it, but if it means it’ll make this at all easier on Hermione and Dean then I’m not going to question it. The Slytherin common room is intimidating enough without having to live there all the time, I can’t imagine how they’re doing,” Potter said, his brow furrowing in concern for his friends.

This was something that Daphne wasn’t used to. Of course her old circle of friends all cared for one another, but this sort of open affection just didn’t happen. It would be the same as giving up one of your weaknesses. Yet here they seemed to think something was wrong with you if you weren’t displaying some sort of emotion. She was so confused, how was she supposed to adjust? Was it even _safe_ to adjust? If she did and then went home, she wouldn’t last a minute.

The thought of going home after this terrified her, especially after Astoria.

When she turned her attention back to what was going on around her she was relieved to see that no one was paying attention to the range of emotions dancing upon her face. Carefully she reconstructed her mask and watched the situation play out before her.

Weasley’s hand found Potter’s and gripped it tight for a moment. “Mione will be alright, she always is. She went through worse with you and Ron last year. The world knows that she doesn’t really need protection and-“

“Oi, Little Red, what in the name of Merlin’s left one is wrong with your brother?”

Daphne shook her head at Theo’s language, and had to refrain from laughter at the look on Weasley’s face once she heard the nickname Theo had used for her.

“ _What_ did you just-“

“I called you Little Red and since it’s the nicest nickname we had for any of you I wouldn’t fight it too much. But your brother looks like he’s about to kill Granger and I want to know why,” Theo crossed his arms against his chest and nodded in the direction of Hufflepuff table.

Daphne turned around along with everyone else to see King Weasel glaring daggers at Granger and the rest of the 7th year Slytherin’s. His face was changing colors and if he didn’t take a breath soon Daphne suspected that it would start to match his hair.

“See? I thought he and Granger were a love match, so why is he trying to kill her with his mind?” Theo asked.

“I have no idea… I mean I knew they had broken up but I was told that it was because they felt too much like siblings…” Ginny said. “They were fine on the train, weren’t they Harry?”

Longbottom picked this moment to clear his throat, and despite the fact that he had recently grown into himself, he looked to be a little uncomfortable with what he was about to say. “Well… it is _Ron_ , you know?” Longbottom looked expectantly at everyone else around the table, hoping that he wouldn’t have to go into too much detail. At the uncomprehending looks he was getting, he continued.

“Out of all of us, he’s the one who hated Slytherin the most. And Hermione got sorted into Slytherin… knowing the way he overreacts to everything, he probably thinks it was the gravest betrayal she could have done.”

The dark look that took over Potter’s face was enough to make Daphne shudder, and Weasley had begun to shake- the way she was gripping her wand certainly promised trouble.

“To be honest, Ron’s probably not the only one who is thinking that way Harry. Everyone wants to know what she’s done to land her in Slytherin,” and when Longbottom said this he looked a little bit guilty.

“What she did, was help to conquer the darkest wizard of all time,” Weasley growled. Her grip on her wand was actually starting to make it snow a little.

“Without Hermione I would have died more times than I could possibly count, and not just last year. She’s been saving my skin since we first went chasing after the Sorcerer’s Stone. Convenient, isn’t, how everyone seems to forget that.”

Silence fell then, and Daphne looked at the people surrounding her, wishing profoundly that she had as good a group of friends that Granger seemed to have- excluding Weaselby. With the situations they were in, they were both going to need their friends more than they ever have.

Daphne knew, of course, why Pansy was making such a drastic effort to show the world she had changed, but for now she chose to keep it to herself. If Pansy had yet to tell anyone, then neither would she; Daphne didn’t have so many friends that she could afford to risk losing one so easily. But, as she looked at the people surrounding her, her outlook on the whole situation seemed to brighten- if only just a little.

Maybe she wouldn’t be so friendless for long, but the loss of Astoria would be one that she would feel for a long time to come, and she feared that the rest of her family would soon follow. Daphne was shaken out of her reverie by Theo, who punched her lightly on her sore arm. She really needed to have Madame Pomfrey take care of the damage the Patil twins did.

“Good to see that at least some things never change, isn’t it Daph?”

Daphne looked up to see what Theo was talking about and saw that Draco had just entered the Great Hall, and he was scowling.

 

**Draco’s POV:**

He walked through the Great Hall doing his best to ignore the stares that came his way. Normally they would make him feel good about himself, but that the moment they all seemed to be accusing him of something. Of what, he couldn’t tell you, but at the moment he wished for nothing more than for all of them to stop.

When he made his way to the table he saw that once again Granger was sitting in his seat, and he saw the perfect opportunity to get make sure Granger hated him.

“Out of my way, Mu-Granger. You’re in _my_ seat.” Draco was careful to make sure that he added in a sneer, to maximize effect.

Pansy’s eyes were starting to burn into the side of his head and he could tell that she was pissed, but he didn’t care. The look of surprise and hurt in Granger’s eyes was worth it all, he didn’t care what he had to do as long as she stayed far, far away from him.

“Fine, Malfoy. I wouldn’t want to sit anywhere that your arrogant ass would sit anyway, I wouldn’t want to risk the catching of some disease transmitted by ferrets,” Granger said before sliding things down so that she sat on the other side of Thomas. She was seething.

Draco slammed down into his seat and scowled down at his breakfast. She wasn’t supposed to fight back! She was just supposed to move and then continue to stay away from him! Never mind that he knew very well that the know-it-all _always_ fought back, but it didn’t matter, she still wasn’t supposed to.

Lost in his thoughts, he shoved a bite of eggs into his mouth and swallowed before he noticed that Blaise was still staring at him. When Draco looked up he followed the cat-like eyes of his friend and saw that he now was looking at Granger, and that she had a tiny little satisfied smile on her face. Blaise’s eyes returned to meet Draco’s and he raised an eyebrow.

When Draco caught on to what Blaise was saying, he could have hit himself.

“Oh shut it Blaise, I just didn’t think she was worth it.” This statement did nothing other than cause his best friend to smile and go back to his breakfast.

Draco was berating himself. How had he gotten so lost that he hadn’t even noticed that he had allowed Granger to get the last word?!

His plan was starting to fail before it had even really begun.


	6. Chapter 6

**The Great Hall, Breakfast, Gregory’s POV:**

Gregory Goyle was not an idiot.

He wasn’t even dumb, or slow, or unintelligent- he simply knew that if you kept your mouth shut and made sure that people thought you were an idiot, you would be left the hell alone. That was how he managed to make it through the War without having to do any really awful acts of torture. Sure he had to get rid of bodies and those faces would haunt him all his life, but he made it through the War with his soul intact.

He never argued against anything anyone ever told him, so they never doubted his loyalty. He never spoke in public, and so for the most part the Death Eaters had forgotten he was even there. He didn’t even have to take the mark, which was a blessing in itself, but it wasn’t easy for him to watch his friend’s line up and do it without having to do it himself.

The only reason he participated in any of that stuff was his father, and now that he was out of the way for good- he was free.

Free, and alone.

It wasn’t the first time that Greg had thought his freedom had come at too great a price; despite the fact that he had turned evil, Vincent was his best friend, his only friend really. They had been together since they were little kids. Without him, he didn’t seem to want to do anything. Not even pick on someone- Vincent and Draco were always the talkers in that part anyway, Greg just liked to hit things.

He missed having a friend, and now that he was in Hufflepuff, his only real option was Millie.

Don’t get him wrong, he liked Millie well enough, but they had never been that close to each other. And you just couldn’t relate to girls the way you could to a bloke, but she was better than nothing.

Weasley had just sat down next to him, and that was enough to shock Greg out of his thoughts. When he looked up to see the person on the bench beside him, he only saw a head full of flaming locks because the face was too busy staring at the Slytherin table. Judging by the way his ears were turning red, he doubted that he was staring over there with a smile.

_I wonder what he’ll do once he realizes who he sat beside…_

And then he had an idea. Reaching out in front of him he grabbed the pitcher of pumpkin juice and poured a decent amount into Weasley’s goblet, set the pitcher back down, and waited. Finally Weasley turned back around, still seething, and glared at the plate in front of him. Greg took his chance.

He set the full goblet in front of Weasley and watched as the color drained from his face. He looked up at Greg, but before he could speak, Greg cut in.

“I never thanked you, that night, for coming back. So, thank you.”

It had to be the longest sentence he had ever said to someone other than Vincent or Draco, but the shell-shocked expression on Weasley’s face had been well worth it. Greg offered a small smile before turning back to his breakfast like the exchange had never happened. Weasley took a bit longer to get back to normal, but when he did, Greg gave a small nod in satisfaction.

This wasn’t so bad. The Hufflepuffs had pretty much left him and Millie alone, and it didn’t really matter than he had no friends, did it? At least he could be civil with people now… and maybe friends would come later.

It wasn’t like he wasn’t used to being alone.

So lost was he in his contemplations that he didn’t notice that the mail had arrived, until a letter nearly landed in his breakfast, that is. Confusion wafted over him as he broke open then wax- hadn’t he seen that seal before?

_Greg,_

_As sad as I am that you’re not in my House anymore, I would be lying if I didn’t say Hufflepuff was a bit more suited to you. You always were a bit softer than the rest of us. I know for the most part McGonagall has us tied to our Houses, but when we aren’t (during lunch and such) I hope you’re not afraid to stop by. You’re still one of us, mate._

_D.M._

 He smiled and looked up to see that Millie had also gotten a letter- a quick glance at the Gryffindor table told him the same went for Daphne and Theo. He wasn’t sure if it was shock or happiness, but suddenly he felt warmer.

He hadn’t been forgotten, he wasn’t alone.

**Potions, Hermione’s POV:**

The ruling that she had to sit next to someone in her own House wasn’t such a terrible one since Dean was in Slytherin too, so it wasn’t even a question that they would sit next to each other in potions. He didn’t seem too happy about sitting in the very front, but there was no way Hermione was going to sit in the back of her N.E.W.T. level potions class.

She did a quick glance around her to see Malfoy being manhandled none too gently by Pansy into the seat next to her. Hermione had no idea what she was saying, but she did enjoy watching Malfoy shrink under her words.

A voice cleared its throat next to her, and Hermione turned to find Harry and Ginny sitting at the desk next to her. She squealed and threw her arms around Harry’s neck and then just as quickly transferred herself to Ginny, who squeezed her for all she was worth. When she finally pulled away, Ginny was beaming at her and Dean and Harry were sitting on the desks talking. Hermione turned to wave at Padma and Parvati, but they seemed to be ignoring her. The bubble of happiness inside of her deflated slightly.

“Ignore them, they’re just stupid bints.” Ginny said as she glared death at the twins. “Now, tell me everything that’s happened so far. Harry already described the common room to me, it sounds awful!”

And so Hermione told Ginny everything, including the stunt with Malfoy earlier that day and at breakfast. She remained perfectly quiet until the end, although her eyes had started to bug out around halfway through. She also noticed that Dean and Harry were listening in, but she didn’t mind. Harry seemed to be mulling it all over in his mind, but Dean didn’t seem to be surprised about anything at all, she’d have to ask him about it later.

“Malfoy _apologized?!_ And Parkinson she… defended you? Last time we saw her she was trying to hand Harry over to Voldemort! But before we get started on that, there is something more important we have to discuss. What does Malfoy look like with his shirt off? I’d always wonder-“

“OI!”  Harry looked indignant, Ginny only giggled.

Only Ginny. But then Slughorn came in a ruined the little reunion and they all had to return to their seats. Hermione tossed one last desperate look at her friends and saw that Harry was mouthing something to her.

‘Lunch?’ he asked.

Hermione nodded as Slughorn began his lecture.

“Now, due to the rather extraordinary circumstances surrounding this term, Madame Pomfrey has asked us to begin brewing some potions that she believes she may well run out of soon. Thus, this morning we shall begin working on the Calming Drought. Now, this potion could be disastrous to get wrong, who can tell me why?”

Hermione’s hand shot straight into the air and a small smile lit her face. Finally she was on familiar ground! She began to suspect that classes may well end up being her safe haven this year. She heard Dean chuckling beside her and a voice in the back of the room was laughing as well. She could have sworn it had said, “Yep. Some things never change.”

Ignoring them, her hand remained in the air.

“Ms. Granger?”

“The Calming Draught is almost exactly like the Draught of Living Death, the only differences being the measurements of the ingredients, and that when adding the valerian root the potion must be stirred 3 times counterclockwise as opposed to 5 times clockwise,” she answered proudly.

“Excellent, you are exactly right, Ms. Granger! 30 points to Gryffin- uh. I mean 30 points to Slytherin,” Slughorn had to stop a moment because he seemed a bit troubled at how wrong that sentence sounded.

“Well _that’s_ an unexpected benefit,” Pansy cackled out from the back of the room. “We might actually have a shot at the Cup this year!”

“Hey now, that’s not fair!” Theodore Nott exclaimed. He tried to stand up but Greengrass pulled him back down into his seat. “I finally get put into the winning house, and the brainiac gets switched?! The universe hates me!”

Hermione had no idea if she was supposed to feel flattered or not, so instead of commenting she sat back and watch the situation unfold around her, an incredulous look plastered on her face. Harry, Dean and Ginny were all grinning.

“Calm down, Theo. You’ve forgotten how it usually goes then, haven’t you? Slytherin will be all nice and happy in the lead-” Blaise began, only to be cut off by Pansy.

“- And then some form of wrongdoing or evil will happen about the castle. So-“

“So then Potter and his little band of heroes will go off heroing again which will earn them loads of house points and cause Gryffindor to win. Every year it happens Theo, you’d think you’d remember,” Malfoy finished off the story begun by Blaise.

For a moment Nott seemed mollified. Hermione turned her head to see Ginny outright laughing and Harry had now fully turned around in his seat to begin defending himself.

“Excuse me but what exactly do you mean by that-“Harry started in but he was interrupted by Dean.

“Oh come off it, Harry, you know it’s true! First you had that funny little stone…” Dean led.

“Followed by the Chamber of Secrets,” Ginny piped up, although the reminder of second year seemed to have sobered her up a little bit.

“Then you had the whole thing with those Dementor’s…” Dean added.

“Follow that up with the Tri-Wizard tournament and having You-Know-Who come back-“

“Voldemort.” Harry interjected.

“Yes, very well then Potter, _Voldemort_ come back.” Blaise continued on as if he hadn’t been interrupted in the first place. “And then 5 th, 6th, and 7th year was basically the War. Every year, without fail, you go off heroing with your band of Hufflepuff-hugging heroes and you win.” He shrugged as if this settled the matter.

Harry looked stupefied by this point, and Hermione could hardly contain herself. Never had she heard Harry’s deeds wrapped up in so tight a bundle and described in such a lackluster and slightly mocking way. She supposed she should be insulted but she just couldn’t find it in herself to be.

“Hufflepuff hugging…?” Harry ventured. The way he seemed so lost when he asked it sent Ginny, Hermione, and Slughorn (who had been forgotten until that moment) into fits of laughter.

“Yes, Hufflepuff hugging.” Blaise confirmed with a single nod of his head.

Harry was shaking his head, and Hermione thought that not only did this have to be the longest and most civil conversation between Gryffindors and Slytherin’s that had ever existed, but it had to make her wonder how long this shaky peace could possibly last.

“Hold on a moment, _she’s_ one of the merry band of heroes! That means she’ll be getting the points too!” Nott had only just caught up to the conversation, it seemed.

“Yes,” Malfoy’s unmistakable drawl started in again. “But she won’t be getting all of them. So as long as Potter does some extra heroing on the side, Gryffindor will still come out on top once again. Not even Granger’s brains can keep up with an extra dose of hero.”

Nott nodded in satisfaction. Once again, Hermione had no idea what to think, and instead basked in the good feeling that came from lighthearted banter in the still fragile peace. Then Parvati spoke for the first time.

“Shame really, her brains were the only good things about her, and now they’re useless,” Parvati snarled.

She knew that the peace couldn’t have lasted for long. She felt the smile melt off of her face before it turned to stone. She saw Ginny and Harry reach for their wands, and felt Dean do the same beside her. She heard something snap in the back of the room and briefly wondered if it was Pansy. But this would not do! She could take care of herself, and it was high time that everyone remembered it.

“Poor Parvati, it must hurt to know that no one ever thinks of you as being good for anything. Other than some pointless airheaded gossip and a shoddy lay, of course. How does it feel, only being wanted for skills that you can’t even preform adequately enough to get a man that hasn’t previously drowned himself in Firewhiskey?”

Hermione’s voice was cold, her eyes steely and as she watched the color drain from Parvati’s face she felt a small rush of something- though she had no idea what. Pride, possibly, at defending herself without the help of anyone else.

The room was so quiet that she could hear two female voices whisper a satisfied ‘ _yes!_ ’ One of them she knew came from Ginny, but she wasn’t sure about who the other was from, though logically it could only be Pansy. Before Parvati recovered her wits enough to drudge up a retort, Slughorn seemed to remember that he was supposed to be teaching something.

“Right, 5 points from both Gryffindor and Slytherin. There shall not be any hostile talk like that in my classroom, ladies. The rest of the class is to be spent in silence- speaking only when it is needed for you potions. You’ll be lucky if I don’t make you drink them once you’re finished, honestly!” Slughorn seemed a bit flustered.

Hermione ventured a glance around; afraid of what she might see. But to her great surprise, the only faces she could see scowling at her belong to Parvati, Padma, and Zacharias Smith. Everyone else, with the exception of Malfoy who was ignoring her completely, seemed to be smiling at her. Neville, although did look a little uncertain.

Perhaps it was because he wasn’t used to hearing her being mean to any of his friends. She gave him what she thought was a reassuring smile before turning around to do her work. Neville had always been a good friend; she really didn’t want to lose him.

“Pass me the mortar, will you Dean?” Hermione got to work.


	7. Chapter 7

**Great Hall, Lunch, Draco’s POV:**

He thought he had been doing remarkably well.

He had not spoken to or glanced at Granger since that unfortunate incident in the bathroom earlier, and now that she was sitting on the other side of the Hall, he was feeling much better about life. That is, he was until he sat down in his seat and found everybody staring at him.

“What’s the matter with you lot?” he asked, his gaze lingering slightly on Pansy as the words she had hissed at him at the beginning of Potions ran through his mind.

‘ _What do you think you are doing? We’re trying to befriend the girl, not make this harder on her than it already is! What did you say to her this morning anyway? You couldn’t just do this ONE THING right and act like the gentleman I know for a fact is hiding in there somewhere, he’s fighting hard to survive, you know, it would do you some good to stop trying to kill him with your upbringing!’_

Draco gulped. By the look on her face it seemed as if she was ready to give him some more of that here at the table. Blaise spoke up instead, much to his relief.

“What’s going on, Drake?” he asked. “You’re the one who started all of this, why are you backing out?”

Damn. Well I can’t very well tell them that not only did I show the mudblo- no. Stop that. I can’t very well tell them that I showed weakness in front of _Granger_ and then proceeded to think about fucking her after I saw her half naked. Alright then, simple enough.

Lie.

“Erm…” Draco blinked at the confusion on Blaise’s face.

Lie through your bloody teeth, Draco! You used to be good at this! It’s simple, open your mouth…

“Bloody hell Blaise, what are you on about? You and Pansy both! I never said I wanted to be friends with the chit and make sure her life is all chocolate frogs and puppies- I was civil to her, simple as that. If you to want to be her new keeper then go right ahead, just don’t go dragging me into.”

Ah, there he is! Draco Malfoy, the pompous prat! Good to have you back. Now, stop acting like a maniac so that you don’t run off your friends.

A large shadow fell across their section of the table, and Draco looked up to see Greg, Millie, Theo and Daph all standing there. Not only that, but as Daphne slammed her bag down onto the table, Draco could tell she was pissed.

Wonderful! A distraction!

“Daph?” Pansy stuck a cautious arm around her friend. “Daphne are you alright?”

“She called me a blood traitor, and then when I met her in the hallway she informed me that in no uncertain terms, I am no longer her sister.” Despite the fact that her face was nearing the same color red as the lining of her cloak, Daphne’s voice sounded cold and dead.

Everyone at the table flinched upon hearing these words. Disowning someone when you were a pureblood was serious business, and Draco thought back to the days when he wished his family would just disown him and be done with it so that he could try to salvage what remained of his life.

He wondered how his mother was doing. Maybe he should write her tonight… or would that be too soon? It was only the first day of school… he didn’t want to seem needy… but then something clicked in the back of his mind. His sorry excuse for a father was in Azkaban and he could owl his mother whenever he damn well pleased.

Tonight his mother was going to get a nice, long letter.

“Oh, don’t listen to her Daphne. If she wants to act like a stuck up brat, then let her. Nicolai called me the same thing this morning,” Pansy was doing her best to soother her best friend, but Draco knew that look in her eyes.

Pansy was pissed, and she didn’t care who knew it.

“Why would he call you that? _You’re_ still a Slytherin,” Daphne challenged, the bitter tone evident in her voice.

A moment of panic went through him when he realized that if he hadn’t bribed that stupid hat he’d be where Daphne was right now. Merlin help him but he felt guilty.

Pansy sighed. “Dean and I are looking after Granger, Thomas, and Smith-“

“Not Smith,” Blaise interjected. “Smith is creepy enough that he can fend for himself.”

Pansy rolled her eyes and continued. “Fine, we’re just looking after Granger and Thomas, then. This morning Clarissa was trying to attack Granger over something stupid and I intervened. He didn’t seem too happy about it.” She said all of this with the forced nonchalance that seemed to come as second nature to all of them now. The air seemed to thickening with the anticipation of how everyone would react to the fact that they had adopted the former Gryffindors, when Theo started to laugh.

“Don’t worry, we’ve been adopted too,” Theo said with a grin. Daphne offered up a small smile in response.

“Little Red kept the Prat-il Twins from beating me into a pulp last night, and both Potter and Longbottom seem to have decided to become Theo’s new bodyguards,” Daphne added.

“Good.” Pansy nodded, as though she was surer of herself than she was before. “I didn’t like the thought of you two being alone in enemy territory.”

“Neither did we,” Theo said, and it was the most somber Draco had seen the guy look since the day they were all forced to take the mark.

Draco sat back and looked at his group of friends, and noted the defeated looks in all of their eyes. What were they thinking? Did he have the same look in his eyes as they did?

No. He couldn’t possibly. He had been able to have a hand in his fate, unlike them. He had been allowed to have a choice. Why though? Why him? Surely he can’t have been the only person to offer up anything in order to remain in their old House, so why had the Sorting Hat made an exception for him? A deep-seated feeling of uneasiness wafted over him. He felt like something was being planned, and _that’s_ why Draco had been made an exception.

Suddenly Draco felt very alone, and was thankful for the disturbance happening across the Hall for pulling him out of his thoughts.

He looked up just in time to see Little Red’s wand aimed at her brother and watched as she cast her infamous Bat-Bogey Hex. Once it started to take effect and the entire school began laughing, she seemed to nod her approval and then marched herself straight to the Headmistress. Merlin, was she asking when her detention would be? What had Weasley done?

Out of the corner of his eyes he saw a flash of Slytherin robes exiting the Great Hall. Draco turned his head to see the Nicolai was making as if to stand and leave, a strange flash of adrenaline went through his system.

“Pansy,” he began.

“I’m already gone,” she answered. Quickly she hefted her bag up on her shoulder and ran off after Granger.

Good, if Pansy was doing it that meant he could still stay as far away from her as possible, and his promise to the Sorting Hat was still being kept.

Sort of.

**Hermione’s POV:**

It felt so good to be sitting at the Gryffindor table again, she almost felt like her old self. Seamus and Dean were talking with their heads bent to together, Luna had come over to say hello, and Hermione was listening to Ginny telling her about what had happened between Greengrass and the Patil twins. The only thing missing was Ron, but as far as she knew, no one had seen him since Transfiguration, which he shared with Seamus as a Ravenclaw.

Thinking that maybe he had forgotten something in his room, she promptly shrugged it off and once again began to bask in the presence of her friends. Though as much as she tried to ignore it, thing were different between them all. Used to be they would talk about anything and everything just to pass the time, instead they were forced to try and play catch-up, doing their best to get everyone’s story before that ran out of time.

She wondered how much this new change would drive them all apart. Hermione could already feel that she was getting stares from other Gryffindors. Most were younger students who didn’t seem to know what to do with the fact that there were Slytherin’s sitting at their table, but the others she was getting were hostile. She ignored those.

Hermione’s heart ached for the way things used to be.

In hushed tones, Ginny slowed dragged every single aspect of The Bathroom Incident from Hermione, piece by piece. It wouldn’t have been painful if Ginny didn’t stop to sigh over her ‘magnificent morning view’. So wrapped up in this, she wasn’t expecting Ginny to turn serious.

“So, did you have any nightmares tonight?” she asked, searching Hermione for a lie. The question startled her, but she had grown tired of people worrying over her.

“No, none last night,” Hermione said, though she could tell Ginny didn’t believe her. “Honestly, I think I was too shocked and exhausted from everything that had happened to have any.”

This seemed to mollify Ginny a bit, but before they had a chance to go any farther, Ron finally decided to make an appearance.

For the briefest second, Hermione had dared to hope that things would be okay. Then she saw him first turn to glare at Dean, and then his face changed to that of near hostility when he looked at Hermione.

She could have sworn that she heard the remaining shards of her heart break in her ears.

“Ron! Have a seat, mate. How’s it been so far?” Harry asked with an almost forced sense of positivity. His smile wavered slightly and Ron did nothing but glower. Finally he spoke, and his voice was rough.

“Since when do we allow Slytherin’s to eat with us?” Ron’s eyes never left Hermione’s. She felt her lip quiver.

“Since Hermione and Dean became them,” Harry was calm, his voice placating. He seemed to be pleading with Ron using nothing but the tone of his voice, and it wasn’t working.

“Sorry mate, I don’t eat with traitors.” His lip curled into a snarl, but that snarl was nothing compared to Ginny’s.

Hermione had had enough; she grabbed her bag and fled her seat. She had just reached the doors when she heard Ginny shriek out a hex, followed by Ron’s anguished yell. She ignored it. If that was how he was going to act, then fine! She didn’t need him! Who cares if they’d been friends for years, and then had been something more? She did NOT need Ronald Bilius Weasley.

Did she?

Hermione refused to let tears fall down her face as she stomped off to the Arithmacy classroom. She would be early, but she didn’t care. She just had to get as far away from Ron as she could. Maybe if she got far away fast enough she could pretend that her heart was still working. Hermione heard footsteps running after her and turned her head as Parkinson caught up. The girl didn’t say a thing, but she matched her steps with Hermione and put a hand on her arm.

Hermione knew that she was acting as her guard.

**Slytherin Common Room, Draco:**

Hermione had done nothing but answer teachers’ questions and do her work for the rest of that day’s classes. Then, at dinner, she had held a polite and light conversation with Dean, Pansy and Blaise about what they had thought about the new DADA teacher before going silent again. Now, she sat before him in front of the fireplace in the Slytherin Common Room as the House gathered for its required two hours of quality House time.

She had sheaves of parchment before her, as well as a number of files, and Draco had a pretty good idea what she was up to.

“Malfoy, I think we should just get our Head’s duties taken care of now since we’re stuck here anyway. That way we won’t be forced to see each other on our own time.” Her voice was cold. Why was her voice cold? And then he remembered.

Oh yeah, her voice is cold because I want it to be. Because if it isn’t then goodie two shoes Grangers will know all of my deepest darkest thoughts within an hour because he couldn’t keep his mouth shut. That was why her voice was cold.

“Very well, then Granger. Did you see the lists of the new prefects for each House?” He asked. He saw her ‘of course I saw the new list, what do you take me for Malfoy’ glare cross her face, but then watched as she carefully smoothed it away. She seemed to be trying hard to keep things civil between them. Now, now, we can’t have that can we? She’s supposed to dread working with him, not be able to tolerate it.

“Yes. Now I’ve been looking through their schedules to try and set up their patrols, but since many of them are Quidditch Captains, you included, I can’t really start until we have all of the team schedules…”

But Draco wasn’t listening. He was watching her write with her abnormally tiny little hands. How could a person above the age of eight have hands that small? It just wasn’t normal. Maybe she was just a mutant freak after all. The thought comforted him.

“… So I have the temporary one all drawn up already if you want to take a look at it. Are you even listening to me?” she demanded, a little fire growing in her eyes.

Oops.

“Yea, yea I’ve been listening. I don’t need to take a look at the bloody schedule, but were you planning on leaving any work for me to do? Not that I don’t mind the free ride, but I _did_ earn this, you know,” He teased. He enjoyed the play of shock on her face as she realized that she had already done basically everything. The struggle on her face was grand to watch as she tried to come up with something to say.

Thoughtful person that he was, he decided to help her.

“It’s alright Granger, I know you just can’t help being a busy-body know-it-all,” he took a breath and smirked about what he was to say next. “Or was it that you were trying to keep your mind off of that little fight between you and your boyfriend the Wanking Weasel?”

He watched the pink rise to her cheeks with relish. _Now_ his plan was working. He felt his face transform into a smug little smirk and leaned back in his chair, the picture of a man at ease.

“Ronald is _not_ my boyfriend. Now, if you don’t mind, I’d like to get back to business!”

Draco decided that he had enough fun for one night. He needed her to stay away from him but he didn’t want things hostile, he supposed that it was time to play nicely… for now. There was always tomorrow.

“My mistake then,” Draco was still smirking. “Now about the Halloween Masque, the Patil twats and that Goldstein fellow are usually the ones who end up excited about that sort of thing. So if we…”

And on it went. For two straight hours they went over the Masque, patrols, tutoring schedules, etc. until Draco thought he might go mad. Honestly, did this girl ever take a moment in her life to stop and relax? They had gotten quite a bit done they all felt the wards keeping them in the common room lift, and Draco couldn’t be happier for it. If Granger asked him to double check one more list tonight he was going to hex her into oblivion.

Volunteering for that nights patrol, he left as quickly as he could just to get away from her, and began. For another hour he walked the castle until his exhaustion from no sleep the night before finally caught up with him. He made it back to his room and stayed up writing his mother for as long as he could, before calling a house-elf to take it to the owlry for him. And when he fell into bed, Draco was instantly asleep.

And once again he woke up to her screams.


	8. Chapter 8

**October 1 st, Slytherin Common Room, Hermione’s POV:**

Things had fallen into a stiff routine after that second day.

Hermione went to her classes but barely spoke other than to answer a question or ask one, she sat at the Gryffindor tables during lunch and did her best to keep herself a part of the lives of her friends, and she still hadn’t spoken to Ron since Ginny had hexed him. She knew that Ginny hadn’t spoken to him either, but she couldn’t fault Harry for it.

When they weren’t spending what time they could with their friends, Hermione and Dean stuck together like burs. As a result of this they had become a lot closer than they had ever been in Gryffindor, and Hermione found that she was glad for the chance to be close to him. Their company was always joined by either Blaise or Pansy, so much so that they’d given up on using last names, for the most part. Hermione was also quite glad for their championship, despite the fact that nothing had been done to herself or Dean since that second day back.

Something that hadn’t changed was her relationship with Malfoy.

The only time they spoke to each other was during the two hour time period every night when they sorted out their Head’s duties. He still teased her and lately he’d found a new way to drive her round the bend. He’d started staring at her, looking away whenever she caught him at it. She had no idea why he was doing it, and the not knowing was making her mental.

He was doing it right now, in fact. His shining silver eyes were trained on her, and Hermione was doing her best to ignore it. Staring determinedly at the wall of stone in front of her, she started playing with the small bottle of Dreamless Sleep in her pocket and wondering if she had it in her to take it tonight.

Hermione had been having nightmares of the war since it had ended, reliving every fear-laced experience she’d had each night. The bottle had been waiting in her pocket for two months, tempting her, but Hermione wanted to get over her nightmares on her own. She refused to take the coward’s way out.

Malfoy was still staring.

About to finally break and say something about it, Malfoy suddenly stopped and snapped his head in the direction of the boy’s dormitories, where Blaise was exiting.

“Blaise! What are you doing? You’re supposed to be with Thomas!” Pansy was on her feet, pale and shaking. Blaise stopped in his tracks.

“FUCK! He was supposed to wake me before he went to his meeting with Flitwick but he never did, and I only just woke up…” His voice trailed off and it looked like Pansy was about to lay into him again when they all heard Malfoy speak behind him.

“Bugger.” His head was turned towards the door to the common room, where Nicolai Daival had just walked in, along with the rest of his little cronies- Astoria Greengrass among them. The sickeningly smug looks on their faces made Hermione’s stomach drop down to her knees.

Blaise, Pansy, Malfoy and herself all shared in a look of horror before Hermione made a run for the door. But it was too late, as she reached the final step, Hermione could feel McGonagall’s wards fall into place, locking them all in the room for the next two hours. The laughter that she heard behind her made Hermione’s nerves combust.

“I had almost given up hope on catching that little mudblood on his own, but imagine my surprise when I found him alone in the hall… we had the most lovely little chat,” Nicolai drawled. “It’s a pity that we’re stuck in here for two hours, I don’t think he’ll last that long, not with the way he’s bleeding all over the floor.”

Nicolai pulled something out of his robes, and Hermione now saw that his fingers were stained red. But what she noticed next was enough to send her screaming into a blind fury- though she remained perfectly still. He had pulled out Dean’s wand.

_Oh no…_

Dean couldn’t leave her on her own down here. It couldn’t happen. And that’s when the fear hit, followed soon after by rage. Her adrenaline kicked in and suddenly Hermione felt like she was in a place that was so familiar it almost made her smile; Hermione was at war again. An eerie calm flowed through her veins, and out of the corner of her eye, she could have sworn that she saw Malfoy smile a bit at the way she gripped her wand and glared.

Why she was noticing Malfoy was beyond her, what she needed to be focusing on was Dean and the selfish piece of gutter-shite in front of her.

Now, a year ago Hermione would have hexed Nicolai within an inch of his life to teach him the error of his ways. But now she knew better than that. She needed to make him fear her, and she couldn’t do that by hexing him. No, but she knew how she could.

A flick of her wand had the Slytherin’s laughing in front of her rooted to the spot, unable to move a muscle. She caught them glaring, and she knew that she had to do this exactly right in order for it to work. But what words to use?

“There is a reason that your pathetic lot lost in the war,” Hermione said airily. But it wasn’t until she smiled sweetly (a tricked she had picked up from Pansy) that she saw a few of their glares falter. Turning her sweet little smile into what she thought might look something akin to a malicious grin, she finished her statement. “That reason would be me.”

She knew that it wasn’t entirely down to her, but that wasn’t the point. Without another word and before anybody could stop her, Hermione turned on her heel and _threw_ herself into the wards locking them in the dungeon.

The wards were powerful, though she didn’t know what she had expected to find. Whatever it was, she’d had no idea that it would flood her body like electricity and then explode out of her. She panicked for a briefest second before she felt another power in the room moving against what she was throwing it off. Right, of course Malfoy would know what was happening.

Assured that no one else would feel the backlash, Hermione pushed headfirst against the pain attacking her body and threatening to split it apart. She couldn’t stop now- what would happen to Dean? Desperately she reached out, appealing to McGonagall’s wards and hoping they would open for her. But they refused to budge, they were far too powerful. It seemed the McGonagall had set them up in the air. Instead, she had used the wall of the common room as a base, and had set the wards into the stone.

Despair clawed at her heart. Gone were thoughts about getting the Slytherin’s to stay away from her, if she couldn’t get through the wards, Dean was going to die. Thankfully, her years of burying her nose in a book paid off once again. If the wards were in the walls… what would happen if the wall wasn’t there anymore?

Unaware that power was cracking off of her in brilliant shades of silver, and had been since she had jumped inside the wards, Hermione whipped out her wand.

“Bombarda,” Hermione brought her wand down and to the left, before swinging is backwards and jabbing it in the direction of the solid stone wall before her. “MAXIMA!”

She hoped it worked, she had no other ideas if this didn’t work and the pain, oh the pain PLEASE let this have worked-

The stone exploded and went flying in every direction, and the wards dropped, releasing Hermione from the pain of their power thrumming through her veins. If it had taken even a second longer, she would have passed out. Trusting that Malfoy was still shielding everyone, she took her chance and ran through the shower of stone, ignoring the cuts and bruises she was receiving in doing so.

When she reached Dean, a sob let itself out of her throat. Without stopping to think she lifted him up in the air with her wand and sprinted in the direction of the Hospital Wing, leaving the destruction behind her without another thought.

**Draco’s POV**

His voice was one of many that shouted out shield spells when Granger blew the wall into shambles. Merlin but he wanted to curse her for being so foolish!

He searched for her in the dust but she was nowhere to be seen, he cursed and rushed out of the hole where their door used to be, and stopped short at the large pool of blood on the floor, Granger and Thomas were gone from sight and Draco knew that if she was as crazed as he thought her to be, she would have Thomas in the Hospital Wing by now. Pansy and Blaise spluttered behind him, and Blaise was staring at the pool of blood and chanting like a madman.

“It’s all my fault… It’s all my fault…”

Draco ran his fingers through his hair, not knowing what to do or what to say to snap his best friend out of it. The common room was in an uproar, he could people arguing over who had the right of it; Granger, or Nicolai and his crowd. Some people were already dueling over it, and some lunatic released the group of bastards that did this from Grangers spell and he cursed, reaching for his wand.

Draco felt like he was back in the war.

“Draco! We need to close the wall back up before Filch comes,” Pansy snapped as she started working on the repairs. It was a good thing that everyone had helped do repairs all over the Wizarding World- by now this spell was second nature to many.

Blaise couldn’t be shaken out of his stupor, so Draco gave up and raised his wand and watched as stone moved in front of him. He was breathing harshly, and if he had been paying attention he would have seen that his wand arm was shaking.

He was upset because if those bloodthirsty maniacs would attempt to murder a muggle-born, how long would it be until they decided they wanted to kill those who associated with them? AT least, that was what he kept telling himself. In truth, he had come to like Thomas, he wasn’t so bad and from what he had heard of his discussions with Blaise at dinner, he had a good head on his shoulders.

But this biggest reason he was afraid was because it meant that Granger would be next. And of course later he would come up with a whole list of reasons that had absolutely nothing to do with him caring for Grangers well-being, but for right now his brain was too shorted out by that fear for him to come up with any.

Oh well, he would justify it later.

Draco and Pansy finished putting the wall back together while Blaise stared at the blood on the floor, and then they all but ran through the halls to the Hospital Wing to check on their housemates. When they rounded the final corner and burst through the doors, they couldn’t see a thing. But the shouting they heard coming from behind the curtains was enough to tell what had been going on.

“-no idea what has gotten into you Ms. Granger! You should have contacted me or-“

“Nonsense Minerva, if it had taken any longer to get this boy to me then he would have been far behind my care-“

“-But to throw yourself into the wards without any warning or preamble you could have harmed yourself or seriously injured your housemates-“

“Malfoy was right there and I knew he could handle it! If you had left any room for emergencies in your wards or better yet, not gone through with the new sorting, this wouldn’t have happened in the first place!”

Draco didn’t know what to be more shocked about. The fact that Hermione Granger was not only arguing but _yelling_ at the Headmistress or the fact that she had faith that he would be able to handle the situation earlier. When would this stupid girl stop making his head spin!

“Be that as it may, there are rules for a reason-“

“Come now, Minerva, get ahold of yourself! Think of whom you are speaking to! How many times has Ms. Granger ever broken rules without a good reason?”

“Well, actually-“

“Of course, allow me to rephrase, she has broken rules to save lives before. You did not punish her then and I will not sit by and watch you do it now! If you had a care to notice, the girl is seriously unsettled! Think of how strong you made your wards, she may need treatment!”

He heard McGonagall sigh in defeat. “Yes well, how did you manage to get through them? I had a base-“

Granger’s quiet murmur was lost in the screech that followed it.

“YOU BLEW APART THE WALL-“

“That’s it! Out, Minerva!”

The curtains were ripped open to reveal a red-faced Headmistress, a flustered Healer, and Granger- she looked so small and timid it was almost impossible to believe that not even fifteen minutes ago she had blown apart a wall. He couldn’t get a good view of Thomas, but judging by what he had heard; Draco thought he was going to be alright.

Everybody froze when they realized that their conversation had been overheard- Draco had to fight the urge to point out that their conversation was probably heard in Hogsmeade. Pansy broke the silence.

“The wall has been repaired and no one was hurt by the explosion, no harm done,” Draco followed her gaze to see that she was staring at Granger’s small form.

Hecate, was everything about this girl small? Small hands, small nose…

“Very well then. Mr. Thomas will be fine, but have we any idea who did this?” the Headmistress asked. Her glasses were knocked slightly askew and her tight bun was somewhat more loose than normal. She was more shaken then she was letting on.

Draco was about to say that he knew bloody well who did this when Granger looked up in alarm and cut in before he could breathe a word.

“It could have been anyone; we actually haven’t a clue who it could be. We just… noticed that he wasn’t in the common room and, well, my instincts have never been wrong when it comes to things like things. I’ve always been told I have the makings of a seer.” Her voice has grown will confidence in every word that she said, as if she had known the exact words to speak to get the Headmistress to believe her.

Her bald-faced lie was enough to make even Blaise in his guilt-ridden state open his mouth and stare. Draco looked up to meet Granger’s eyes, and saw in them that she was almost pleading with him to catch on to why she was doing this.

And then it seemed to hit the three Slytherin’s at the same time. If McGonagall found out who had done it, then they wouldn’t be able to have their own revenge. They all had enough money to get themselves out of too harsh a sentence if they tried, so in order to punish them… _properly_ … they would have to do it on their own.

Maybe she was more of a Slytherin than he thought.

“She’s right,” Draco cringed at the words, and hoped that he would never have to say them again. “We have no way of knowing exactly who did it.”

“Well, until we get to the bottom of this, I want everyone to stick together. Now, I’m going send an owl to the Ministry so that we can get this looked into properly. If you three would please go back to the dungeons, we will make sure that Ms. Granger gets back safely.”

They had no reason to stay, so Draco led them back out into the hall.

“It’s crazy, isn’t it? How she can go from looking like the most dangerous person in the world to no bigger than a bow truckle,” Pansy said, a shake in her voice. “It’s not right. She shouldn’t have to be afraid.”

Neither he nor Blaise had anything to say to this. Blaise because he was still wrapped up in his guilt, and Draco because he was still trying to keep himself as far from anything to do with Granger as he could. If he let himself feel for her, he would want to talk to her, become friends. And if that happened, he wouldn’t be able to handle the changes she might bring. Draco couldn’t have her change things.

Because if she did, he wouldn’t even know who he was anymore.

Not a word was said as the three split, and Draco went up to his room, resigning himself to stay awake until Granger got back. He had a promise to keep, after all.

So he sat down and wrote to his mother of everything that had happened. He wrote pages and pages, letting his problems drift away as the ink was absorbed into the parchment. He wouldn’t send this letter, he knew. But he needed to write all of this down, and he didn’t have a journal.

So lost was he in pouring himself into the parchment, that he hadn’t noticed Granger had come back to her room already. Draco didn’t notice she was in her room until he was startled by her nightly screams of terror.

Something broke then, inside him. He didn’t have to speak to her, but he couldn’t listen to this anymore. Tomorrow he was going to do something, and he knew exactly what to do. Because Pansy was right, Granger didn’t deserve to be afraid.

Not anymore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the wait, guys! Thanks for reading!


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for sticking with this you guys :)

**Morning, Draco’s POV:**

Exhaustion was thick in his bones, so thick that he needed to use the wall of the shower in order to stand upright. Draco let the hot water beat against his head in order to try and distract himself from what he was about to do.

He wasn’t even sure he knew where the Gryffindor Common Room _was._

But he had a guess, and that guess was better than nothing.

Every morning he tried to shake off the feeling of dread that Granger’s screams left him with. During the weeks that had passed he had been searching to see if they had any effect of Granger as well, only to find that they did. They were making her already small frame seem life much tinier, more delicate. He found himself captivated by how one person could _be_ that tiny and survive.

Until she decided to smash forward into wards and then blow up a bloody wall. Honestly, how much more Gryffindor can you yet?

For the millionth time Draco wondered why she had been sorted into Slytherin. Thoughts that he, of course, could not pursue without questioning why that stupid barmy _thrice cursed hat_ wanted to put him in Gryffindor.

Sometimes he felt like he was different, like nothing made sense anymore. Merlin help him but he was drowning in himself, and he had no idea what to do about it.

His thoughts weighed upon him heavily as he got ready, and hung with him still while he searched in vain for the entrance to Gryffindor Tower. He knew it had to be around here somewhere! Draco kicked the wall and began pacing, cursing vehemently all the while.

“Watch your language, young man!”

Draco must’ve jumped about a foot in the air, but to his credit he did not cry out. Instead he stood gob smacked at the portrait of the Fat Lady.

“We-were you there a second ago?” he asked, wondering if he had truly gone so far off the deep end that he hadn’t seen the portrait.

“No.” was her response. He didn’t like the way she was inspecting him, his flesh grew bumps.

“Why weren’t you, if you don’t mind my asking?”

“Because at first I thought you were a Slytherin, but then I realized my mistake,” she looked at his as though the answer should have been obvious.

“But I am a Slytherin!” he shouted, panic clouding his judgment. Was this whole bloody castle out to get him or something? 

“No, you aren’t. All of the paintings and ghosts know of your deal, Mr. Malfoy. Now. Those that you are waiting for will be out shortly, they are having words with the Headmistress at the moment. When you’re ready to come to your rightful House, you know where to find me!”

And with that, the portrait was once again gone from his sight, leaving a terrified and incredulous Draco Malfoy staring bamboozled at an empty stretch of wall.

_What the ever loving FUCK JUST HAPPENED?!_

But he didn’t have enough time to digest everything that happened before the portrait was back, students were climbing out of it, and he was thrown against the wall and trapped there by a raving Daphne Greengrass.

**Gryffindor Common Room, Daphne’s POV:**

“-in the hospital wing, but he should be able to make a full recovery within the next week. Had Miss Granger not gotten to him when she did, I have no doubt that I would be giving a very different announcement at the moment.”

Daphne could barely hear what the Headmistress was saying over the roar of dread that was sounding in her mind. What if Astoria was part of this? Just because Daphne had been disowned didn’t mean that she didn’t _care_ anymore. Astoria had already shown a huge support and interest in the Dark Arts, but surely she hadn’t gotten so deep so quickly? The conversation continued around her.

“Which begs the question Prof- erm, I mean Headmistress,” Potter corrected quickly. “How, exactly, did Hermione get through the wards? “

Daphne snapped out of it long enough so that she could hear the answer to this. The look on McGonagall’s face was sheer brilliance- it looked like she had swallowed something akin to bubotuber pus.

The Headmistress walked back into the fireplace, but before she left she turned slightly and answered in a voice that was strained by either laughter or stress.

“Miss Granger decided to blow up the wall, Mr. Potter.”

If Daphne hadn’t been so concerned about Astoria, she was sure that she would have joined the rest of the Gryffindor’s with laughter. Theo, in particular had fallen out of his chair laughing, and was now being giving some rather dirty looks by the Patil twins, who weren’t laughing.

Potter and Little Red were smiling but it was clear that they were worried about Thomas, and Daphne decided that she _had_ to know. So she flew out of the portrait about to run to the dungeons, knowing full well what a terrible idea that was, but was stopped short by the sight of Draco Malfoy standing right in front of her.

In her desire for answers she threw Draco against the wall and trapped him with her arms. He was stuttering.

“Did she do it Draco? Was Astoria part of it?” She asked fervently.

Draco’s face closed and his mouth snapped shut.

“Damn it Draco, _tell me!_ ” Daphne hit the wall beside him in her desperation.

Why wasn’t he telling her the answer? Why? Did that mean that her sister was part of it? But that couldn’t be, she hadn’t gone that far into the dark! Please, just _no,_ this couldn’t be happening! She heard people coming up behind her but didn’t pay them any attention until Potter spoke up behind her.

“McGonagall said they didn’t know who did it…”

Daphne groaned in frustration at his naivety. “Rule of being a Slytherin, Potter. Don’t turn somebody in if you can get the revenge yourself!” she growled, but her eyes never left Draco’s steely grey ones. “Drake, I’ve got to know, _please._ She’s a total cunt but she’s still my baby sister.”

She couldn’t believe it; her eyes were starting to fill with tears. She knew that because he hadn’t told her Astoria was innocent, she was guilty. But she needed the words to be said in order to make it real.

“Take it up with Granger, Daph. She’s the one running the show at the moment, believe it or not,” he said coolly. But Daphne knew him better than that. His voice was rough, but if you ever wanted the truth from Draco, you just had to look for it in his eyes. And his eyes were apologizing. Daphne sobbed.

“C’mon, Daph, let’s get you some breakfast,” Theo said softly, trying to calm her down. He made her release Draco and began guiding her down towards the Great Hall, Longbottom in his shadow, guarding them.

**Ginny’s POV:**

She felt sorry for Daphne, and made sure Neville went with them, but at the moment Ginny was a bit more concerned about what Malfoy was doing outside their Tower, and what he had meant by saying that Hermione was ‘running the show’. Beside her, Harry asked her questions for her.

“What did you mean by that, Malfoy? That Hermione was running the show?”

She could tell that Harry was doing his best to be civil- no one knew how to handle Malfoy anymore. While those in the order knew he was never evil, he was still a prat and a ferret. He was also ridiculously uncomfortable, apparently, like he was second guessing coming up here in the first place.

“She’s the one who wouldn’t tell McGonagall who did it, so the punishment is up to her at the moment. It’s just Slytherin politics,” he shrugged, plainly deciding whether or not this was the moment to insult them or not. Harry was mulling this information over in his mind, and Ginny was getting tired of the silence.

“Why are you here, Malfoy? Bit far from the dungeons, don’t you think?” she asked.

And then the strangest thing happened. So strange, in fact, that Ginny wasn’t sure it had happened in the first place. Malfoy _blushed_.

The world had officially ended. She had been expecting him to hex her, not _blush!_ And if that wasn’t enough, he had even decided to answer her question.

“Came to see you, actually, Little Red,” he mumbled, deciding that he rather liked the way his shoe looked against the floor because he was giving it his full attention.

That _name_. Oh how she hated that name! Why in the name of Circe every Slytherin was adamant about using it, she had no bloody idea. She could feel her face coloring and had to exercise great self-control not to call him out on it. She couldn’t let her temper get ahead of her yet, not when Malfoy was acting almost like a human being.

“What for, Malfoy? You’ve never had an interest in any of us before,” Harry challenged. Ginny could feel him reaching into his robes to rest against his wand and rolled her eyes.

Tactless. Completely tactless.

Malfoy was beginning to turn to stone, she could tell. Soon he would just insult them and walk away and they would never know what was going on. Stupid boys. But he surprised her yet again when he bit his tongue and looked her straight in the eye.

Wow, his eyes are _gorgeous!_

“Granger’s having nightmares. She’s been having them every night since we’ve been back, and it’s wearing her down. Also- she isn’t eating properly,” he deadpanned.

Ginny’s jaw had dropped, he’d come here about _Hermione?_

Beside her, Harry was spluttering in disbelief, “Excuse me?”

Malfoy pursed his lips and glared at Harry before looking back at Ginny.

“The password to our common room is ‘mandrake’. The Head’s Dorm is located behind the portrait of the party, on the left. The password into it is ‘true colors’. Grangers room is up the stairs on the right,” he paused to take a breath, as if wondering whether or not he should continue.

Oh yeah, he is _definitely_ regretting coming up here.

“If half the stories Thomas has told about Scarhead here are true, then he knows bloody well where the common room is _and_ has a way to get you inside without being seen.” His gaze flicked to Harry and he glared again, as if blaming him for childhood antics. “Just in case, most people are out of there by 11.”

Without waiting for her response, he turned on his heal and walked down the corridor, the tension in his shoulders telling the truth about how hard it was for him to turn his back on people that could curse him into oblivion if they wanted. But she couldn’t let him go that easily, not without asking him.

“Oi, Malfoy, why do you care?” she demanded.

“So I can get a full night of sleep without waking up to her bloody screams.”

He hadn’t turned around to answer, and now he was disappearing around the corner. She turned to Harry, who was wearing the same expression she felt she had upon her own face.

“What was that all about?” he wondered.

“Does it matter?” Ginny frowned, and worry for her best friend overcame her. “Hermione needs me, Harry. I’m going to need the cloak tonight. You did bring it, didn’t you?”

Harry raised an eyebrow at her question and rolled his eyes a little. Right. As if he would leave it behind.

“I’ll give you the map, too. It took Ron and me forever to find that stupid entrance…”

As Harry nattered on, Ginny was left to contemplate Malfoy. He had given her access to Slytherin and access to his own dorm even! The way he was acting… it was as if the war had blown a heart into the bastard.

Draco Malfoy was up to something.


	10. Chapter 10

**Hospital Wing, Pansy:**

She had talked Blaise into letting her be the one to come up and visit Dean by claiming that she would be able to wheedle the story of out him better than he would- but in all honesty she was just worried sick about him.

They’d become somewhat decent friends over the past month, and Pansy found him intriguing. He was the most intelligent person she’d ever met, but he could hold his own in a debate with Pansy and he wasn’t afraid of her. Maybe that was the thing that really drew her to him.

Even before the War, a bunch of people were afraid of her. Mind you, that was the way she had wanted it at the time, but then the War happened and that took her reputation a bit too far for her liking. Well, too far for her liking _now,_ but if things had been different and her parents hadn’t- no.

She wasn’t going to think about it.

Pansy twirled Dean’s wand between her fingers as she approached his bed in the Hospital Wing, fear coiled tightly in her stomach. She had confiscated his wand from Astoria while Draco was running around looking for Granger (what was _that_ all about, anyway), but now she was second guessing her idea of coming here.

What if he didn’t want to see her? What if he looked so awful that she couldn’t bare it? What if he didn’t even wake up?

But no, they truly did need to story of what had happened last night to make sure that no one went unpunished and so they wouldn’t make the same mistake again. She was a changed person now, and she would protect Dean and Gran- Hermione with everything she had and that was the end of it.

When she reached his bedside her breath caught in her throat- she had never seen him so _pale_ before… He was covered in bandages and still quite a bit bruised. The fact that he was still in this type of conditioned after spending a night in Madame Pomfrey’s care told her more about what happened then he could have.

Anger settled like a cold sheet over her heart.

She sat down lightly on the corner of his bed and was busy searching for a spot that wasn’t injured for her to lay her hand and try to wake him gently when a scratchy voice called her attention from his body to his face.

“P-pansy?”

His eyes were squinting, as if he was trying to figure out if he was seeing things or not.

“Hey there, sleepy,” She said lightly, trying not to startle him. Lying there like this, he just seemed so vulnerable! And if she thought that the darkness clinging to his features that first night was attractive, it was nothing compared to the sunlight streaming in above him. And then, he gave the smallest smile.

Something stirred in her then, something small, but the fact that he was lying there beaten within an inch of his life and probably in more pain then she could imagine at the moment, and he had _smiled._ Because of her! Because she had come in to see him. She had done something to make him smile.

And then, without understanding where the thought had come from, she silently vowed that she would make him smile again.

And again.

And again.

**Slytherin Common Room, Hermione:**

When she had refused to tell McGonagall who had attacked Dean, she hadn’t done it so that she could get revenge. The thought of revenge didn’t even come to her until she had woken up this morning, and it did sound quite lovely. But they real reason she had done it was that she was afraid.

One thing she had learned in the war was that people who were consumed by hatred could be described as a hydra. When the attacks begin, it’s just one head. Time after time she had learned that if you simply cut off one head, two more would immediately come right after.

Hermione knew that all of the Death Eaters hadn’t been captured. She knew that it’s wasn’t only Death Eaters that were unhappy about Voldemort losing the War. She knew now that Hogwarts was not impenetrable. And she knew that if McGonagall handed over those who had attacked Dean to the Ministry that this would no longer be just a few vengeful teenagers against the muggleborns. She knew that it would be as good as declaring a War.

And Hermione was tired of War.

But as she walked out of her portrait and into the Common Room, anger filled her once more and she realized that by not telling, she had a rare opportunity. She could strike back, and the thought made Hermione smile… but what to do? What did a Slytherin hate?

She thought back to all of the times Malfoy and Harry got into it. Whenever Malfoy was hurt, he got angry- but he also milked it for all that it was worth. But when he was embarrassed… Immediately she remembered fourth year, when Malfoy became the amazing bouncing ferret. She knew for a fact that it still bothered him, because Malfoy was not the only one who watched. As soon as she realized that he was watching her all of the time, she began to watch him right back whenever he wouldn’t notice. Hermione noticed many things about him, from the way his eyes seemed to speak to the small, almost unseen cringe that followed whenever someone shouted out the name ‘ferret’.

That was it. If you wanted to scar a Slytherin, you made a fool out of them.

She wondered how Malfoy would feel if he discovered that it was her knowledge of him that was teaching her the idiosyncrasies of being a Slytherin. Somehow she doubted that he would be too happy about it.

Hermione scanned the room looking for Parkin-Pansy. But she was nowhere to be found. Instead, she was met by a very glum and jumpy looking Zabini. Her question must have been written on her face because he answered it for her.

“She went to the Hospital Wing to give Tho-Dean his wand back. If you down mind, I’ll be accompanying you down to breakfast today,” he said with an unsure smile, holding his arm out and everything.

Well. Who would have known that Blaise Zabini could act like a gentleman? Deciding that going down the hall with Blaise was better than going by herself, she offered him a small smile of her own and put her hand lightly on his arm, earning herself a lopsided grin from him.

They made light, harmless conversation about classes until they got to the entrance to the Great Hall, neither of them wishing to discuss the events from last night. When in sight of the doors, Hermione noticed someone skipping down in their direction, humming an unfamiliar tune.

“Luna!”

Hermione was grinning, if a little apprehensive. Luna had become quite dear to her, but no matter how hard she tried, sometimes she just didn’t know how to handle some interactions with her. Something told her that this would be one of those times. Luna was smiling by the time she reached Hermione and Blaise, holding what Hermione assumed to be the newest edition of The Quibbler in her hand.

“Hello Hermione,” Luna said, while staring Blaise directly in the eye. Hermione had to force herself not to laugh at the expression on his face.

“Hello. Erm, this is Blaise Zabini,” Hermione began, still unsure as to why Luna was looking at Blaise, and not her.

“Oh, I know. He made me trip down the stairs and spilt my bag open during my fourth year, and fifth year he helped me out of the trick stair by the portrait of Gregory the Smarmy. But he was alone then, so that was probably why he acted so differently,” Luna’s eyes were still boring straight into his, and Hermione swore that he paled several different shades under her gaze.

He opened his mouth as if to finally say something for himself, but Luna then turned her attention to Hermione and acted as if he wasn’t there, leaving him gaping at her.

“My father sent me the newest edition this morning, but I feel like you would like it more, Hermione,” Luna said with a sweet little smile.

“Of course Luna, thank you,” Hermione answered and took the offered magazine without hesitation. It was best that way; otherwise Luna would simply stare and smile until you do what she suggested. “Will you be joining us for lunch again today?”

“Maybe,” she shrugged. “I thought about going to the library to research the origin of the Warbling Blimcat, but since you’ve invited me I might wait to do that until after dinner.” 

Hermione nodded as if that statement made complete sense, but before the conversation could move any farther, Luna had turned back to Blaise.

“It’s not your fault, you know,” she smiled.

Blaise jumped a little bit, “W-what?”

“He was tricked,” she said matter-of-factly before turning around to begin walking into the Great Hall. She turned back slightly to Hermione and waved. “I’ll see you later Hermione. And read page 5, third article. That should solve the little problem you’re having. Bye now!”

Hermione started a little bit, she had been too busy grinning at the look on Blaise’s face, before looking down at the magazine in her hand. What problem was she having? Did Luna mean her nightmares? How would she even know about those… but then, how did Luna know about anything?

“Granger?” Blaise asked as they moved through the large doors and towards the Slytherin table for breakfast.

“Yes?”

“What is a Warbling Blimcat?”

“I haven’t the slightest.”

“Oh…”

Poor bloke looked more confused than he was a few moments ago. When they finally got to their seats they were met by a pair of very bright silver eyes. Malfoy had beaten them to breakfast, and he was looking directly at the hand she had on Zabini’s arm. For some strange reason Hermione felt heat rise in her cheeks and she took her hand away as if Zabini’s sleeve had caught fire. Blaise didn’t seem to notice a thing, being too caught up in the oddity that is Luna Lovegood, but the movement brought Malfoy’s eyes straight to hers.  Hermione’s breath caught at the intensity of the gaze, and she had no idea how long she stood there staring into his eyes. The silver… it was almost like liquid, and she could have sworn that at that moment he could see right into her soul. Her eyes were starting to water, but she didn’t want to blink because she knew that it would ruin it, but her eyelids closed only for a moment, and she came back to her senses.

Hermione took a step back and turned into her seat, a crease in her brow, as she tried to rationalize what had just happened. She hated Malfoy, she only exchanged words with him when she had no other choice, but his eyes were like pools of mercury. That’s just it, it had nothing to do with the owner of the eyes, and it was just the eyes themselves. They were gorgeous. Just because she liked them didn’t mean she had to like the rest of the person. So she liked his eyes? Big deal.

She could feel him looking at her.

For some reason this made her breath come more quickly, so to distract herself from unwelcome thoughts, she pulled open The Quibbler and began to look for the article Luna mentioned. And when she found it, she realized that Luna wasn’t talking about Hermione’s nightmares. She was talking about how she had no idea what to do to embarrass the Slytherins.

Switch up of the Body and Spirit!

Birmingham twins Leila and Arnold learned on their 13th birthday that there must have but some mistake in their birth. They suffered an ailment common to many fraternal twins, which caused their spirits to go into the wrong body. Leaving the wrong twin as a boy and the wrong one as a girl! The realization of this mistake spurred their parents into action. They petitioned the Ministry in order to allow their young children to take the Sacerdos Potion, which would change the gender of their bodies to the opposite gender. The Ministry has previously dictated the use of this potion and refuses to allow those under 17 to take it, to ensure that the body and spirit do not match….

Hermione looked up from the article and over to the Ravenclaw table, where Luna was smiling at her. When Hermione’s jaw dropped, Luna simply wiggled her fingers and turned around to continue conversing with her friends.

Was Luna really suggesting this? This was so unlike her! Yes, she was a brilliant witch who held her own during the War, but she had never known her to be vengeful or do anything to harm another person… But as Hermione thought, her eyes wandered to the empty seat usually filled by Dean, and she remembered that Luna and Dean had become really close during the time they were both locked up in Malfoy Manor. McGonagall must have told the other Houses what had happened, but even if she hadn’t, Luna still would have known. Somehow she just… knew everything. Always. It was really quite creepy when you thought about it.

Hermione was ripped out of her thoughts when Pansy literally threw her bag onto the table in front of her. She looked up to see Pansy’s black hair was mussed and her eyes were wild, a slight pink tinge rising on her pale skin.

“Hermione,” she hissed, “You have better got something _fucking_ brilliant planned to get those bloody twats back for what they did to him, because if you don’t I swear I’ll have to Avada them myself. And do be sure to include _dear_ Zacharias Smith, because _he_ is the one who led him into that damned death trap!”

Pansy sat down in a huff and, as quietly as she could, told Hermione, Blaise and Malfoy all about how Smith had agreed to walk with Dean to and from his meeting with Flitwick so that he needn’t wake up Blaise. And of course Dean thought nothing of it, because Smith had never had a problem with him, and he was displaced too. Everything was normal until just outside the portrait, when Nicolai, Astoria, Clarissa, Zane, Mikhail, Dramera all showed up out of nowhere. Smith disarmed him, and then the others proceeded to hex Dean within an inch of his life, leaving him to bleed out on the floor. When the story was finished, three sets of eyes were on Hermione, waiting expectantly.

“Well, Granger, have you anything?” Malfoy asked- there was a slight edge to his voice.

Why was he so upset about Dean? Weren’t she and Dean below him, or something? But those eyes of his didn’t lie, and they were begging for an excuse to hurt someone. So were Pansy’s and Blaise’s, for that matter. Well, she couldn’t disappoint.

“Yes, actually, I have,” she smiled. Thanks to Luna. “You three carry on with any minor hijinks you deem appropriate, just make sure that nothing you do puts them in the Hospital Wing. Leave the rest to me,” Hermione began gathering up her things, not minding the nearly nonexistent amount of breakfast she had consumed. She was still a little woozy from attacking the wards the night before. “Oh, and Malfoy? I’ll need you to handle our Head’s duties tonight. _I_ have a date with the Library.”

She turned to leave, with Blaise getting up to escort her to Potions since Pansy hadn’t yet had time to eat. She had expected Malfoy to put up a bit more of a fight, but instead she heard him grunt in agreement. Hermione shrugged, deciding not to fight the strangeness if it was going her way.

Had she turned around, she would have seen that the reason he wasn’t fighting her, was because he was too busy scowling at Hermione’s plate of breakfast that she had barely touched- the smallest glimpse of concern etched deep within his eyes.


	11. Chapter 11

**Lunch, Great Hall, Ginny:**

Since Slughorn was still enforcing his strict no talking rule in Potions, no one had a chance to talk to Hermione about anything yet. Now that Hermione was sitting next to her at the table, eating peacefully as if she didn’t know that all eyes were on her, she had no idea where to start. She and Harry had already decided not to tell Hermione that Malfoy had informed Ginny of her nightmares, nor to tell her that she would be acting on his suggestion. But then where did that leave her?

Ginny bit her lip and wondered what the world had come to for there to be a moment where she was on uncertain ground with Hermione. They were best friends… why should her being sorted into Slytherin have any effect on that? It must just be the fact that they weren’t spending as time together, though somewhere inside her she knew that it wasn’t true. House rivalries apparently ran deeper than she thought.

She started at the thought, suddenly ashamed of herself, as well she should be. This was Hermione, and nothing was going to break their friendship if Ginerva Weasley had anything to say about it. Ginny was broken out of her debate over where to begin when Daphne sat down at the table, across from Hermione.

“Granger,” Daphne said.

She saw Hermione freeze, an indifferent mask drawn down over her face, a sight that made her heart ache. Ginny knew the reason Hermione now had strict control over her facial and vocal expressions, and she knew that it was necessary. To Hermione, anyway. Her friend had confided in her one night, saying that maybe if she had been better at lying with her whole body, perhaps Bellatrix wouldn’t have tortured her for quite so long.

And so, Hermione had learned perfect, calculating control. Ginny just didn’t have the heart to tell her that Bellatrix would have treated her the very same, no matter what. Not when it gave her friend the slightest bit of comfort.

“Yes?” Hermione asked, carefully neutral, and Ginny had no idea what was going on in her mind. She shared a look with Harry, who seemed to be having the same difficulty. Neville looked nervous.

“No one will tell me if Astoria had anything to do with it. Blaise, Draco, Pansy- they all say the same. That it’s your show, you’re acting on it, and that they’re only to do anything minor. If I want information, I have to ask you,” Daphne seemed to be doing everything she could to try and keep herself indifferent, but Ginny could clearly see her control slipping. “ _Please._ ”

Hermione’s face was indifferent, save for the slightest movement of her lips- it seemed that no matter what, her friend still had to bite something when she thought. It really was good to see that some things didn’t change. With a sigh, Hermione dropped her façade.

“Yes, Astoria was part of it,” Hermione informed the other girl, not unkindly. Ginny instinctively reached out towards Daphne, taking her hand in comfort as she saw the other girl’s heart break through her eyes. “There were quite a few, though you will know their identities quite soon…”

Daphne’s head jerked up, concern evident on her face, laced with panic. Ginny swelled with pride at the girl, who was still overcome with the urge to protect her sister, despite being disowned and knowing that her sister was a monster, of sorts. Without knowing why, at first, Ginny’s eyes sought out Malfoy, who sat with his back facing her.

As Harry had reminded them all multiple times, Malfoy had only been protecting his family. Just like Daphne.

Now it was Ginny who was biting her lip, though she was thankfully brought back to earth when Hermione’s voice reached out to soothe Daphne.

“I’m not going to hurt them, those who did it. Not physically, at least, though it’s my hope that it will be a lesson they never forget,” Ginny watched as all eyes in their section of the table drifted between Hermione and Daphne, noticing how Daphne relaxed an infinitesimal amount. “I cannot make any promises for the others, they only thing I told them was to do nothing that would send them to the Hospital Wing,” Hermione added apologetically.

“Thank you,” Daphne said softly, before getting up to leave, defeat riding her shoulders. The silence in her wake was thick, and Ginny really hated silences.

“So, ‘Mione, blow up any walls lately?” Ginny asked, the coming lecture quite obvious in her tone. Harry crossed his shoulders, taking his cue to glare at his friend.

“About that,” he said. “How many times have I told you not to get into life threatening situations if I’m not there to make a huge mess out of things?”

Hermione groaned, supposedly at the prospect of yet another lecture about how stupidly she had acted, but Ginny caught the small smile on her lips which gave her away. Ginny smiled in return, anxious to confront Hermione later that night, but it could wait.

Seriousness was less important, at the moment, than the teasing that would cover up the worry about Dean.

**Charms, Goyle:**

“That will be a dentition for the both of you! 15 points from Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff!” squeaked Professor Flitwick as a red-faced Weasley and a pale, shaking Finnegan went back to their seats.

Greg couldn’t really believe what had happened… weren’t Weasley, Finnegan and Thomas all friends? He knew that Thomas had dated the little red one, but surely that can’t have been why he seemed so unaffected by what had happened.

Earlier that morning when the Headmistress made the announcement in the common room, Greg had been fully prepared to deal with a shell-shocked Weasley. To everyone’s surprise, however, he just shrugged and walked off like he had been told it was cloudy outside. At first he had thought that maybe Weasley was just putting on a brave face instead of getting worried in front of everyone- he could understand this.

But then they had joined the Ravenclaw’s for Charms, as usual, and all hell had broken loose. Finnegan came in all pale and shaky, desperate to talk to Weasley in an effort to calm down. Thomas was supposed to be their friend after all, but Weasley had then done something… rather ridiculously out of character for him.

He had shrugged it off and told Finnegan, “What does it matter? He’s just a Slytherin so-“

But Finnegan’s fist hadn’t given Weasley the chance to finish the sentence before it flew into his face and sent the ginger toppling feet over head as he fell over the desk situated behind him. The punch was rather spectacular, actually, and Greg felt inclined to give Finnegan a pat on the back. Too bad he was too busy pulling him off of Weasley and setting him back in his chair.

Really, what was the world coming to if it was him, of all people, breaking up a fight?

No, wait, what was the world coming to when Weasley was turning up his nose at one of his friends just because he was sorted into Slytherin? Granted, Greg knew that many of the stereotypes of his old House were true, hell, he was the embodiment of many of them himself a few years ago, but this situation was a bit ridiculous. Weasley and Thomas had been friends… and Granger and Weasley had been practically tied to the hip for most of the past 7 years. And now he was acting like a heartless prat for no bloody reason other than the fact that they were in Slytherin?

Something was wrong here, Weasley wasn’t himself. This Greg knew for a fact. And when he settled himself back in his seat next to Millie, who was quietly shaking her head, he noticed Loony’s eyes were on Weasley from across the room. Good thing to know he wasn’t the only one paying attention, he could tell that Loony knew there was something going on too, that Weasley wasn’t himself.

Greg shrugged, deciding not to worry about it. Who was going to listen to him, anyway?

**Slytherin Common Room, Night, Draco:**

At least she had eaten a decent amount of dinner, he thought, as his eyes once again wandered to the spot by the fireplace where Granger sat with what looked like half of the potions section of the library sprawled out in front of her. She was searching for something, he could tell by the way she glared at each page, turning them quickly until she gave up on the volume entirely and tossed it into a pile that was growing larger by the second. He had never seen someone go through that many books so quickly in his life.

“Draco! Will you stop staring at the human research machine and get back to work? I don’t have to help you with this, you know,” Blaise said as he threw a crumpled piece of parchment at Draco’s nose. Since Granger had claimed that she needed him to take over the Head’s duties for the night, he had called in Blaise to help. There was just no way he was going to go over all of the lists and preparations that needed to be done before the Halloween Masque on his own.

Draco was immensely relieved that the celebration two weeks from now was being handled by the Headmistress; he didn’t need any of the added stress at the moment.

“Sorry mate, just wondering what she has planned, is all,” Draco lied, inwardly pleased that he seemed to have finally remembered how to do it without sounding like a total wanker.

_~~Fairy Lights~~ _

_~~Black Silk Streamers~~ _

_~~Butter~~ beer_

Damn, he thought, as he ran his quill down the roll of parchment, crossing out the supplies he’d already gotten approved by McGonagall. He’d almost crossed off the Butterbeer, and he’d yet to even begin the battle with the Headmistress over it. Draco had a feeling that she would give in eventually, though, seeing as he knew she had quite a fondness for it herself. He simply refused to allow Pumpkin Juice to be the only thing served at a Masque he had helped to plan.

“What do you think of Lovegood?” he heard Blaise ask. Draco sincerely hoped that this was a lead in to some sort of a joke.

“What?” he asked dumbly.

“I asked what you thought of Lovegood. As in, whether or not she’s actually crazy… I had always thought she was but then today she pops out of nowhere and, well, begins spouting nonsense, really,” Blaise ended weakly, a crease forming as he seemed to mull something over in his mind. Draco shot him a look that said, ‘of course it was nonsense, were we not just saying she was crazy?’ before Blaise plundered on with fervor. “But it was nonsense that made _sense!_ ”

Wait, what?

“Erm, Blaise? If the nonsense made sense then it wouldn’t really be considered nonsense, would it?”

“Just because something is nonsense doesn’t mean it automatically doesn’t make any sense, Draco.”

“Bloody hell, Blaise, now you’re actually starting to sound like Lovegood!”

“So do you?”

“Do I what? This _conversation_ makes no sense!”

“Ah, see? But we’re not speaking nonsense, now are we?”

“That isn’t how it works!”

“How do you figure?”

“Just because something doesn’t make sense, doesn’t mean it is nonsense, but if something is nonsense then it automatically doesn’t make any sense! That would be why it is called _non_ sense, Blaise.”

“Rubbish.”

“Sorry?”

“Oh, good, you’re apologizing for being wrong. Always knew you had it in you, mate!”

“Blaise.”

“I’m just saying, you can’t have it both ways. Either nonsense can make sense, or anything that doesn’t make sense has to be nonsense.”

“That’s not how it… Look, it just doesn’t work the other way around, okay?”

“Says who?”

“Blaise.”

“I most certainly do not, if I did we wouldn’t be having this chat, would we?”

“ _Blaise._ ”

“Right.”

There was a brief pause in which Draco tried to get his bearings- what were they talking about, again? But before he could clear his head, Blaise started in on him again.

“So… do you?” he asked quietly.

Draco allowed his head to fall into his hands as he let out a groan- he could swear that he heard snickers coming from the fireplace, but when he looked, Granger was back to studying her books. There was no hiding the amusement on her face, though. It almost made him want to laugh, too, despite the throbbing headache he could feel headed his way.

“Do I _what_ Blaise?”

“Do you think Lovegood is starker’s,” he stated, as though his question should have been obvious. Draco sighed. Merlin, how did he get into this one again?

“I dunno, mate. Never really spoken to her, to be honest,” he said quietly, although some small part of his mind wondered what had happened to make it so easy for him to lie to his best friend.

He had owled Lovegood earlier that summer, apologizing for everything that had happened and wishing her well. He had only owled her, though. Not because she underwent anything worse than the others had, but because he could just tell that she wouldn’t go running around stating to everyone she ran into that he had actually apologized to her for being a coward.

But he had needed to apologize to someone, to anyone, before he went mad. His guilt was just too much, and he had felt that if he could get just one person he had wronged to accept his apology then maybe there was hope for him after all, maybe he might have a chance in this new world. A new world that he himself wished that he had helped to build. Not that he would ever tell anyone this, of course. Well, no one other than Lovegood.

And to his great surprise, the chit had accepted it. She had sent him a rather long, rather strange letter in return that had caused him to laugh whenever he thought about it for too long. Not a cruel laugh, either, just a simple laugh, a laugh born out of Wrakspurts and Dirigible Plums and the like. Did he think Lovegood had lost the plot? Possibly, but if she had then Draco sincerely hoped she never found it again. The world needed more people like her.

It’s because of that reason he felt a bit guilty for lying, just now. That, and he seemed to be getting a bit tired of lying, these days. For all that it was necessary.

Salazar… what was that about anyway? A Slytherin tired of lying? It was almost unheard of! But then, a small voice in the back of his head reminded him, you’re not exactly a Slytherin anymore are you? Sod it all to hell; he really didn’t want to think about this. He was already confused about too much already.

“Yea, s’pose you’re right,” Blaise muttered, going back to the sheaves of parchment in front of him, lost in his own thoughts.

“Blaise?” Draco asked, searching around the common room for the first time that night. Really, one would think that after the ordeal last night they’d pay closer attention to their own… But Draco had never thought that she’d be targeted…

“Mm?”

“Where is Pansy?”

“Oh,” Blaise looked slightly sheepish. “Er, sorry, I guess when I told Hermione I thought I told you too. Pans got special permission from McGonagall to spend the two hour period in the Hospital Wing, can’t remember the excuse she used though. Anyway, she’ll be back later, with an escort through the dungeons, just in case.”

Draco nodded, relieved, before something caught his attention. Since when was Blaise on a first name basis with Granger? The question called the scene at breakfast to his mind, when Blaise had walked in with Granger on his arm. For some reason he had been unable to tear his gaze away from the petite little hand resting on his friend’s jumper.  Which didn’t make sense, because Draco didn’t care what the little mud- muggl- Granger did, so long as he kept his promise to that sodding hat.

Perhaps he really ought to stop staring at her all the time. Noticing all of the tiny things about her wasn’t going to help him keep his distance- all it did was give him about a million different questions he wanted to ask her. Ugh, if he hadn’t seen her in that _sodding_ robe that morning, then this wouldn’t be happening. It was just a stupid reaction to seeing female flesh that kept her on his mind.

Because he didn’t care about what she did.

But why did she react the way she had when she had noticed Draco staring at her hand? Was she embarrassed that he had seen it? Was it a touch of affection that she hadn’t wanted him to notice, something that was supposed to be meant for her and Blaise only?

He didn’t know it, but Draco was starting to glare at Blaise a little bit. Thankfully the other man was too consumed in his own thoughts to notice.

Or maybe she had reacted the way she did, because she _didn’t_ want Draco to think there was something going on with Blaise, because it had all just been Blaise acting the gentleman like he always did? It’s not like he cared, or anything, it was just his promise to protect her that had him looking at everyone as if they were a threat. A threat to her, of course, not to him. Why would he feel threatened? There was no reason, because he didn’t give a damn.

Draco felt the wards drop with relief, and he almost sprinted out into the hall to begin his patrols, trusting Blaise to look after Granger. Which was quite strange since just a moment ago he had been looking at Blaise as a threat. To Granger, not to him.

As he paced the corridors, he wondered whether or not Little Red was going to come that night. He really hoped she would, that she somehow had the ability to get Granger’s nightmares to stop. And he only wanted this to happen so that he could get a full night of sleep himself; it had nothing to do with Granger’s mental well-being. If it were different circumstances, he would probably he sending Granger nightmares himself!

He spotted a few Gryffindor’s sliding into a door down the hall, and Draco grinned, happy for the distraction. He only wanted those nightmares to stop so that he could get better sleep himself. See? Personal gain.

In the name of Merlin’s baggy Y-fronts, he did not give a Knut about Granger.

Not a care in the world.

“15 points from Gryffindor,” he smiled, “ _Each._ ”

The three third years in front of him groaned.


	12. Chapter 12

**Heads Dorm, Hermione:**

45 books, 6 hours of research, 3 trips to the library, 1 argument with Madame Pince later, and she had found it. She’d found it!

Hermione clutched the volume to her chest as she stood up on her bed and began to dance around, bouncing from one foot to the next, spinning in a rather clumsy victory circle. So clumsy, in fact, that she lost her balance and fell hard onto her bed, bouncing and laughing all the while. The fall had hurt some, but she didn’t care. She had found it!

And it was _perfect!_

So caught up in her excitement was she, that it took her a moment or two to notice the feminine laughter coming from her doorway. Hermione yelped and jumped for her wand, pointing it at her doorway where she turned and saw… no one. No one? Why did she see no one?

Wait. Harry. Cloak. Female laughter? Female Harry? Polyjuice? But-

Hermione’s mind caught up with her just as Ginny pulled off the Cloak and then crashed to the floor, laughing so hard that her face began to match the color of her hair. Hermione saw the Marauder’s Map clutched tight in her friend’s hand.  While Ginny attempted to fight her laughter, Hermione bit her lip and glanced at all of the books around her room. Should she tell Ginny what she was planning? Would Ginny try to talk her out of it? Could she be trusted?

Wait a moment. Why couldn’t Ginny be trusted? Ginny was her best friend, Ginny had always been there for her, even through the breakup with Ron. Ginny was a Gryffindor, surely she could be trusted far more than a Slytherin? But that was it, the reason behind her errant thought. Ginny was a Gryffindor, and she a Slytherin. Sodding House rivalries! This made no sense! Hermione had never paid much attention to them before- but that wasn’t quite true, was it? No, she had participated in them, maybe not as much as everyone else, but she had. In fact, it was her old views on Slytherins that were a big reason as to why she hated herself for becoming one. Part of the reason that she claimed to be a Gryffindor whenever she had the opportunity. But to think she couldn’t trust Ginny after all they had been through, for no reason other than the fact that she was a Gryffindor? That would not do. Hermione waved her wand and sent the books she had flying into nice, neat stacks. Tidy, but hiding nothing. She had nothing to hide from Ginny.

While Hermione scolded herself, Ginny had made herself comfortable on Hermione bed, and was now giving her a look that clearly told her that she was in trouble. But hadn’t she already been given then ‘you need to be safer and not throw yourself headlong into McGonagall’s wards’ speech at lunch? Hermione didn’t have to wonder long. One of the many things she loved about her friend was the ability to get to the heart of a matter.

“Why didn’t you tell me that you were having nightmares?” Ginny demanded, as worry and betrayal battled it out for leading emotion on her face. Hermione groaned into her pillow. Apparently there _was_ something she had to hide from Ginny.

“How did you find out? Do I honestly look that awful?” Hermione asked, refusing to remove her face from the emerald pillow it was buried in. She felt Ginny tugging at it corners to no avail, she was not coming out of her pillow until this conversation was over.

“Blimey Hermione come out of the pillow! And how I know isn’t important, “she said, once again trying to rip away Hermione’s safe haven. “Though I do have a thing or two to say about how little you’re eating, don’t think I haven’t noticed.”

Hermione was silent. Anything she said at this point would only make matters worse- she had no good reason for not eating as she should. Control, maybe. Loss of appetite, possibly. Some stupid reason Ginny was going to make disappear, most likely. She felt wriggling on the bed and next thing she knew Ginny’s head was under the pillow with her.

“You won’t come out to see me, fine; I’ll come under to see you. Bit stuffy in here, really,” Ginny said into the silk. Hermione was suddenly overcome with a huge rush of affection towards the woman lying next to her. A woman who would risk suffocation just to make her friend feel better. In one movement Hermione ditched the pillow and pulled her friend into a tight hug. Ginny returned it, holding Hermione close, filling Hermione with warmth that she hadn’t known she had been missing.

“Why haven’t you been taking Dreamless Sleep? I know you have some on you,” Ginny asked softly, petting the mass of curly brown hair in front of her.

“I just… I feel like I’m letting the nightmares win, if I do. Like that horrible woman has beaten me. So each night I tell myself that the nightmares won’t come, but they always do. And it’s always the same. The faces of those we lost, and then the battle, and then the Horcruxes, and then _her._ My throat is raw every morning when I wake up…”

“But it wasn’t like that this summer, why did they come back? Is it because you’re in Slytherin and it’s just creepy as hell down here?”

“No, Gin, it’s not that. This summer I never had to sleep alone. I was either with you when I was staying at the Burrow, with Ron and Harry when we were off looking for my parents, and then once my parents were home my mother stayed with me every night. The nightmares only come when I’m alone,” Hermione finished lamely.

What must she sound like? Here she was, supposed to be the badass war hero, defeater of Voldemort, and she couldn’t even sleep alone. She wasn’t even allowed to walk around Hogwarts without a bodyguard because she’ll be attacked like Dean. Some Gryffindor she was. What must Ginny think of her?

“Well that’s it then,” Ginny said, holding Hermione out by her shoulders and looking her in the eye. “I’ll just stay my nights here until the memories aren’t so fresh, or we think of another option. I’ll have to figure out something to do with Daphne, though… I don’t trust the Pratil twins not to do something. She’s staying the night in the boy’s dorm tonight.”

“Pratil twins?”

“Yes, it’s what Theo calls them. The name fits, don’t you think?”

Hermione laughed, and it felt like the truest laugh she had let out since she had gotten back to Hogwarts. Ginny joined her, and while they sat there laughing (though if you were to ask them later they wouldn’t be able to tell you just what it was that was so funny) Hermione heard a door close. With a start, she remembered that she had left her door to the bathroom wide open.  At Ginny’s gasp, Hermione turned around, and had to fight with every ounce of willpower she had not to gasp as well.

Because, standing right in front of her, was Draco Malfoy. A shirtless Draco Malfoy. A shirtless Draco Malfoy with a black towel around his waist. A shirtless Draco Malfoy with a black towel around his waist and his left arm frozen as he apparently stopped still while running his fingers in his hair. Was that his Dark Mark? But the second she thought she saw it and double checked, it wasn’t there. Weird. But then he was moving towards them and it didn’t matter. Hermione had caught a glimpse of his chest before, but it was nothing compared to this. He was toned, but not drastically so. Ron was all bulky muscle that hindered his movement, but Malfoy was all tight muscle and sinewy movements, that made her feel like he was a predator and she was his prey.

And she did not mind one bit.

Her mouth dropped open a tiny bit, despite how vehemently she ordered it not to. She just couldn’t stop looking at him. One hand gripped the towel to his waist, ensuring that it wouldn’t fall, and then other now gripped Hermione doorframe as he leaned against it. She had to fight the urge to whimper, beside her, Ginny actually did. It was so quiet that Hermione almost couldn’t hear it, but it still happened.

Ginny’s whimper reminded Hermione of her presence, and suddenly Hermione panicked. Would he be upset that Ginny was here? Would he cause a scene? Would he please drop that towel? What-no! No dropping of the towel!

“Alright there Granger?” he asked, looking at her with the same look that had been in his eyes when she had her arm on Blaise’s jumper. Hermione, note trusting her voice, simply nodded. He turned his gaze to Ginny, then, and Hermione braced herself for the worst. “Little Red. I see you got in alright.”

Huh?

Beside her Ginny nodded her mouth still gaping open. Hermione looked back and forth in confusion. What was going on here that she didn’t know about? And then it clicked. There was only one person who could possibly know without a doubt that Hermione had been having nightmares. Malfoy had gone to Ginny. Malfoy had heard her screaming. Malfoy knew that she was weak.  She could feel her face turn to one of horror and recognition, and when it did, she saw Malfoy falter slightly.

“Goodnight Ladies,” he said, before closing Hermione’s door and disappearing from the room. She couldn’t read the look on his face through the horror on hers.

“Okay, new rule,” Ginny said. “Your bathroom door is never allowed to be closed when I am in this room, unless he closes it. I love Harry, but _bloody hell!”_

“HE WAS THE ONE WHO TOLD YOU?!”

Ginny blanched. This, when you think about it, is quite a feat for a Weasley.

“DRACO MALFOY WAS THE ONE WHO TOLD YOU? HE _KNOWS_?!”

“How do you think I got the passwords to get in, Hermione? Really, it’s alright. He came to me this morning, told me that Pansy said you were really missing your old friends and that Pansy had ordered him that in order for him to apologize for being such a prat in the beginning of the year. That’s all he knows- I was only guessing about the nightmares when I saw the bottle of Dreamless Sleep on your bedside table. The very same bottle that you had this summer. I guessed- you confirmed. Now calm down and stop yelling already!”

Relief flooded her veins and Hermione sagged onto her bed again. She could hear the shower going on next door, and the thrum of the wards that prevented her going in while he was indecent was a strangely comforting sound.

“So, back to the important things, I’m serious about that new rule.”

Hermione felt a grin crawl up onto her cheeks as she thought about how delicious he had looked while leaning against her doorframe. It really was a shame that he was a blood supremacist, masochistic, prat.

“Deal.”

**Bathroom, Draco:**

Little Red was in the wrong House. This, Draco knew for a fact. She had to have made a deal to stay in Gryffindor- had she promised to look after the Slytherins? But no… the hat wasn’t on her long enough. Maybe the hat knew that there was no point in switching her because there was no way she would stand for it, and she would convince it to let her stay anyway, and he was just saving himself some time.

Still, Little Red was a Slytherin, and that was the end of it.

He had NEVER seen someone take Granger’s fuse and cut it- just like that! How did she think of a lie so quickly? He just- he was floored. Little Red now had his complete and total respect, until the end of time. He had almost ruined everything and he didn’t even know what it was he might have been ruining. He knew that Granger still hated him, which is great because he hated her too, but there was no denying the fact that when her mouth had dropped open, a jolt was sent straight down to his prick.

Once again Draco cursed the fact that he had seen her in that robe, otherwise he wouldn’t be having these reactions.

Even though the shower was on, he was still leaning against the door; he had stopped to listen in to see whether or not he needed to be on the lookout for an attack any time soon. Now that he knew he was in the clear, he should probably get into the shower and take care of the part of his anatomy currently demanding his attention. Draco dropped his towel and the glamour on his arm, once again allowing his Mark to see the light of day. He doubted that either of the girls saw it since their attention was clearly elsewhere, but he still needs to be careful. It wouldn’t do to remind anyone.

As he stepped into the warm water, he remembered the reactions he had inspired- even in Little Red, who had Potter. The fact that he may very well have a one up on Potter, even one he couldn’t share, was enough to make Draco’s whole day. As he shoved his head under the stream of water, his arm drifted downwards, grabbing hold of himself and beginning to stroke, finally giving in to the twisted images that had been plaguing his mind since that first morning.

Draco bit back a groan as his fingers moved over his head and back down his shaft, imagining Granger standing, dripping wet before him. Another pass over his head, and another image in his mind. This time its Granger twisting under him, head thrown back as she is screams his name before biting her lips. Merlin, every time caught her biting her lip he wanted it to be his teeth clamped around it, not hers. Salazar how he wanted to make her scream, wanted to make her writhe in pleasure, he wanted to make her want him and beg for more.

He moved quicker now, images of Granger flying through his mind as he sought out his release. The pressure was building, and his out of practice arm was beginning to cramp, but he didn’t care. All that mattered was- _ohfuckyes!_

He came all over his hand and the shower, breathing heavily because he refused to cry out and alert people to what it was he was doing. Panting, he leaned against the tiles and attempted to catch his breath. He was never going to allow himself to go that long without release again, ever. But then he remembered what exactly it was that he was wanking over, or more precisely whom, and he slammed his head into the tiles. And then he did it again. And again.

It shouldn’t matter that he had seen her soaking wet and in a robe that didn’t cover much- she was a mud- muggle-born. He couldn’t even say the name anymore! What was wrong with him? What had changed to change her from an ‘it’ to a ‘she’? A she that he wanked over?

Draco finished the rest of his shower in misery.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the wait! Silly college, how dare it get in my way!

**Gryffindor Boy’s Dorm, Daphne:**

Something was crushing her. She couldn’t breathe. What was on top of her? What was going on? Where was she?

As she opened her sleep crusted eyes, a loud snore sounded in her ear. With that snore came memories of the night before, memories that told her the slightly smelly bed she was curled up in at the moment was Theo’s- and that he was the huge mass currently attempting to make Daphne become one with his mattress. With a groan she tried to shift him off of her, but to no avail. Circe, what did Theo eat, rocks? Straining, she tried again, but this only resulted in Theo throwing his arm around her and snoring even louder than he had been before. With a defeated sigh, she prepared herself. Daphne hadn’t wanted to wake him but right now air was becoming something she thought she had survived ages without. Pivoting onto her hip and snaking her arm out behind her, Daphne’s hand shot forward to a spot just under Theo’s ribs, where she knew him to be quite ticklish.

With a strangled yelp, Theo woke up and bounced to alertness. Apparently he didn’t remember that Daphne had shared his bed last night because when his arm collided with something squashy and warm (Daphne’s shoulder) he screamed, jumped, and fell off of his bed into a tangle of limbs on the floor. His tawny hair was mussed and his mouth agape as he stared at Daphne as though she was a rare creature he had never seen before. Daphne was trying so hard to contain her laughter that her ribs began to hurt. But when, moments later, Theo curtains were magically thrown open and Daphne was faced with 2 wands aimed at her, the moment of hilarity died.

She knew then, how Harry had won the War. He and his friends had quick reflexes- and the stares she was given were enough to quicken her pulse make her gulp.

_Note to self: Never startle a Gryffindor._

After a tense moment of silence, Neville and Harry both blinked and lowered their wands, frowning slightly as the ghosts of their pasts haunted them in their sleepy states.

“Merlin, Daph, th’bloody’ell wassat fr?” Theo asked as he yawned and climbed back into his bed. If nothing else, his statement broken the tension in the room, and was rewarded with a shake of the head from Neville and a sleepy smile from Harry.

“You were crushing me, Theo.  Honestly, dear, if you ever plan to bring a girl back to your bed to need to get rid of the funny smell. Not to mention learn how to sleep _without_ crushing the girl into said smelly mattress. You wouldn’t budge!”

“Time is it, Nev?” grunted Harry as he relaxed backwards into his four-poster.

“Close to 7, so it’s still early yet,” Neville replied as he searched for his slippers.

 Harry put his pillow over his face to block out the light and groaned, mumbling something incoherent. Daphne thought she overheard ‘girls’ and ‘morning’ and possibly even something about the Dark Lord. This was only slightly cleared up by Neville’s response to him.

“I cut the head off his snake and the sun doesn’t seem to care enough about that to stop shining so early for me, either.”

This was rewarded with a snort from Potter, and the next thing she knew his curtains were drawn again and she could hear a happy hum coming from his bed- presumably at the darkness.

“You could understand him?” she asked, trying to fight off the yawn determined to claim her. Theo shifted in his bed and almost knocked her to the floor, earning himself a glare that was completely lost on the back of his head.

“Yea,” Neville said. He finished pulling on his slippers and was searching for his bathing things in his trunk as he spoke. “After a few years you learn how to understand his sleep talk. He won’t even remember this when he finally wakes up, if he falls asleep quick enough.”

Guilt consumed Daphne. These boys had been nothing but nice to her and here she was, ruining their sleep! “Oh no, can you not fall back asleep? I’m sorry I-“

“No, no, it’s alright. I get up this early every morning. I go and help Professor Sprout in the Greenhouses before everyone else wakes up, an alarm would have woken me in about five minutes anyway, really.”

Relief flooded her as she tried to force once of Theo’s legs over so she could lie back down, but he was having none of it. She knew full well that her friend was still awake- the years of sleepovers as children that had turned the two into something like a brother and sister had also given her a wealth of knowledge about his sleeping habits. She desperately hoped Ginny wouldn’t need to stay with Granger again anytime soon. Soft laughter made her look up- Neville was watching her war for space.

“Go ahead and take mine, it’s not like I’ll be using it,” he said, smiling. The warmth in his voice startled her almost as much as the kind offer itself. It was times like these that reminded Daphne she wasn’t in Slytherin anymore.

“A-are you sure?”

“‘Course! It’s an empty bed. And besides, I got knocked onto Theo’s bed sometime last week- I know how bad it smells,” he explained. Seeing Daphne’s hesitation, he continued. “Really, take it. I’ll come back when I’m done and then Ginny should be back. We’ll all go down to breakfast. These two are loud when they wake up, so they’ll wake you with plenty of time to get ready.”

She knew that she really ought to refuse, but Theo’s bed was just _awful_ and she just wanted some sleep. With a smile of deep gratitude she left Theo’s bed and collapsed onto Neville’s, she couldn’t help the moan that escaped her lips if she had tried. His bed was so warm and comfortable, much like Neville himself. Not to mention it smelled _amazing_. She couldn’t quite place the smell, but it was spicy and _good_. She could hear Neville chuckle.

“You alright there?” he asked.

“Neville your bed is fantastic,” she said with feeling. Already she could feel the tendrils of sleep approaching her as she buried herself deeper into his blankets and that wonderful smell. “And it smells so _good._ ”

He laughed again. “Well, thanks, I think.”

“That’s it, whenever Ginny isn’t here, screw Theo. I’m sleeping with Neville,” she mumbled, barely aware of what she was saying. She would be embarrassed later, she knew, but right now she didn’t give a damn. Across the room she heard chuckle from 3 separate places, meaning that none of the others were asleep yet.

“Hear, hear!” came from Theo.

“Noted,” called out Harry, though his voice was as sleep laced as Daphne’s.

“Sweet Dreams, Daphne,” Neville called out, just as sleep finally took her and she sighed into his pillow, comfortable at last.

Neville Longbottom was grinning as he left the room, humming happily at the fantastic start to his morning.

**Great Hall, Draco:**

He hadn’t seen Granger or Little Red yet that morning, for which he was thankful. He wasn’t particularly looking forward to seeing Granger so soon after what had happened during his shower last night. Not that she knew about it, of course, but he wanted to clear his head of the images he’d created in his mind before he had to look at her again. There were just so many things he was confused about, things he had thought about so often lately that they were beginning to make his brain hurt. He felt like he was betraying everything he had ever known, just by thinking of Thomas and Granger as people. But then, was betraying all he had grown up knowing a bad thing?

But if he did that, what was left of him? Who was he?

Draco had expected change after the War, but it was all happening way so fast, so fast that he felt as if he had fallen into the Lake and the Giant Squid held him under the water. He was struggling with himself, and felt like he was fighting against everything and nothing at once. He needed someone to confide in, but was afraid to say the words out loud lest they actually became real. Draco was grasping at the fraying edges of his sanity, and he wasn’t quite sure how much longer he was going to last before he drowned inside himself.

These thoughts attacked him mercilessly until he sat himself in his usual seat at the table. So distracted was he, that it took him a moment to notice that although both Blaise and Pansy were seated, Granger was nowhere in sight. He swung his head around; hoping to catch a glimpse of her seated at another table, before Pansy put her hand on his arm and motioned for him to relax.

“Little Red took her up to visit Dean; I’m going to pick her up before potions and am bringing her some breakfast. No need to be so worried,” she admonished. A curious look was in her eyes, and she refused to stop watching him. What she was searching for, he had no idea because there was nothing to find, but it unsettled him all the same.

“I just don’t want to get stuck with all of the Head’s Duties. We have that Masque coming up for Halloween and she hasn’t- Blaise, what are you staring at?” Draco asked. His friend’s eyes had been glued to the Ravenclaw table ever since Draco had sat down, and while he wasn’t going to bring it up earlier, he would take any way to distract Pansy he could get.

“Wha-oh, no reason,” Blaise muttered, quickly returning to his breakfast and looking about the Great Hall, possibly in search for a distraction. Draco saw his eyes widen in triumph as he found one. “Look who it is…”

Curiosity piqued, Draco turned to see Thomas’ attackers entering the Hall. Draco pulled out his wand and hid it slightly before half-turning to see Blaise and Pansy doing the same. Well, Granger _had_ given them free reign, so long as they didn’t land the lowlife’s in the Hospital Wing.

This was exactly what Draco needed to get his mind off of things.

The trio grinned without a trace of humor in their eyes.

**Great Hall, Ginny:**

Parkinson may have been bringing Hermione some breakfast, but Ginny was on her own. And so she raced back to the Great Hall after dropping Hermione off in the Hospital Wing to visit Dean- her stomach screaming at her all the while. She walked in just after Malfoy, and though she needed to talk to him, her stomach was far more important at this point. Not to mention that unless Malfoy had been given a personality transplant (possible, considering his behavior, but unlikely) she figured that he had been eavesdropping while she had sorted things with Hermione. And so, when Ginny sat down at the table and gave Harry a quick kiss, she didn’t have a single worry.

Her lips still tingled from where they had met Harry’s, a feeling that still made her giddy. Even after all this time a quick peck on the lips still made warmth crawl over her skin and tingle everywhere he touched, something she thought to be a miracle. Yes, she may appreciate the attractiveness of other men, but Harry would always have her heart.

It wasn’t until she had taken a bite out of her raspberry muffin that she remembered she had to break some news to Daphne. It could wait until lunch, but the more time they had to plan sleeping arrangements, the better. With one last longing look at her muffin, she set it down with a sigh. Ginny wondered if she ought to just blurt it out, or if it should be handled more delicately, but then Harry spoke up and solved the problem for her.

“So how did things go with Hermione? Is she alright?” he asked, concern heavy on his brow. She felt a pang go through her heart for Harry, who was once again caught between his two friends. Even though Ronald was behaving like a total twat, Harry still didn’t have it in him to abandon him completely. They didn’t talk much, she knew, but it was still enough so that Harry’s concern for both of his friends was very high.

“She’s alright, but she’s can’t sleep alone. Not just yet,” Ginny said. She was only being vague because she knew that others were listening, and though it wasn’t a huge secret that Hermione went through Hell during the war and her nightmares would be understood, she doubted that she would want it spread around. Recognition dawned in Harry’s eyes, and Ginny knew he had caught on. He could be dense and tactless, but she liked to think he was improving. Ginny now turned to Daphne, who was seated across from her. “This means, that I’m going to be staying with Hermione for a while.”

Ginny’s tone was apologetic, but a wave of guilt still crashed into her when she saw the other girl’s face fall a little bit. Ginny had opened her mouth to apologize and start coming up with ideas on what they could do with Daphne, when she noticed both Harry and Theo grinning. And was Neville- were his ears turning pink?

“Well, that won’t be a problem,” Theo proclaimed. “Daphne and Neville got that little problem sorted this morning, didn’t they?”

In front of her Daphne groaned and put her head in her arms. Neville’s ears were _definitely_ turning pink, but there was no denying the small smile on his face, despite his best efforts to hide it.

“I was waiting for that, really, I was,” Daphne muttered, still refusing to look at anyone. Ginny was lost.

“Well at least you know that Nev’s bed smells so _good_ … “Harry teased. “It shouldn’t be a problem at all now, will it?”

“Leave her alone Harry,” Neville demanded, throwing a muffin at him to emphasize his point. Although the marvelous grin on his face wildly contradicted his harsh tone. Ginny was knocked speechless. One night gone and she had missed something?!

“See, at least _one_ of you three is a gentleman!” Daphne exclaimed, finally coming out of the shelter she had made of her arms. Her cheeks were tinged a delicate shade of pink, and she was refusing to look anyone in the eye.

“Good thing that it’s the man you’re going to be sharing a bed with, then, isn’t it?” Theo said, earning himself an elbow in the side from Daphne and a muffin in the head from Neville.

Ginny had no idea what they were talking about and was about to _demand_ that someone fill her in, before a commotion at the front of the Great Hall put an end to the subject. There, in a giant heap, were several Slytherins on the ground, surrounded by sheaves of parchments, quills, books, scarves- all of it drenched in ink from assorted broken ink bottles. Their bags had been split open, and all of them looked to have been hit by a trip jinx.

“Looks like we now know exactly who attacked Thomas,” Theo said quietly, and he was quite somber about it. A moment later, Ginny remembered why. She turned to see Daphne, half out of her seat, a look of distress had robbed her of the blush that she had worn just moments ago.

“Tori…!” she exclaimed softly, attempting to get out of her seat, before Theo pulled her back down and held her there.

“Stop it Daph, you know the rules.”

“I’m not a Slytherin anymore, Theo. I don’t have to follow them anymore,” Daphne said as she struggled, trying to free herself. “She’s my little sister, for Salazar’s sake!”

Ginny’s heart hurt to hear the words, because she remembered what had happened. And although Astoria was still Daphne’s sister, Daphne was most certainly not Astoria’s. Unsure of what to do, she felt Harry grab her hand and held it tightly for comfort.

“No, Daph, I’m sorry. Right now she isn’t…”

The single sob that tore from Daphne’s throat was enough to break Ginny’s heart. About to reach out to comfort her, Ginny then noticed that Neville was pulling the girl slightly closer, and had an arm around her shoulders. She also saw the look of gratitude Theo sent his way, because he knew that Daphne wouldn’t want to be touched by him right now.

Sometime, when things had calmed down a little, someone really had to explain what it was Ginny had missed. But for now, she used her free hand to grab Daphne’s, to offer what little comfort she could possibly give.


	14. Chapter 14

**Great Hall, Dinner, Hermione:**

From where she was sitting, Hermione could clearly see the Gryffindor table. Or, at least, the part of the table that her friends were sitting at. She could see Ginny leaning on Harry, Nott making the fruit on his plate dance around for no apparent reason, and she could also see that Neville was sitting with his arm around Daphne’s shoulders. Ginny had informed Hermione of this new development at lunch, of course, but it was another thing to see it with your own eyes. It made her think back on the conversation she’d had earlier that morning with Dean, about Pansy.

Not that Hermione thought that something was going on between them yet, of course. But with how often Pansy went to go and visit Dean, and with the things that Dean had overheard Pansy saying their first night back, it could very well be a distinct possibility. She wasn’t sure how she felt about it. Pansy was being wonderful to them and was turning out to be quiet a wonderful friend, but Hermione still couldn’t shake the memory of her standing up in the Great Hall and urging the students to give Harry over to Voldemort.

To her knowledge, Pansy hadn’t even tried to apologize for it. And though she knew that the girl had changed, Hermione couldn’t help but wonder why.

Hermione was long kept to her thoughts because right then the Headmistress took to the podium and called all attention to her. When the chatter finally died down, she spoke.

“I am pleased to inform you that this evening we began work on repairing the last damaged section of Hogwarts. In a week’s time, we will be finished. So, on October 10th we will be having a feast in celebration, along with a toast to honor the all of the hard work put into the restoration. You will be required to dress formally for the occasion. Thank you for your attention.” And without so much as a flourish, McGonagall was back in her seat, chatting politely with Professor Sprout.

A bit of excitement ran through the crowd at the news that the castle would finally be fully repaired. It was their home, after all, and it hurt to see it broken in so many places. But this was not what caused goose bumps to run rampant upon Hermione’s arms. No, it was the fact that McGonagall had just unknowingly given Hermione the perfect time and place to enact the punishment for Dean’s attack. It was brilliant!

So lost was she in her thoughts as she went over the brewing instructions for the potion, which was indeed complicated but didn’t take a long period of time to make, that she almost didn’t notice the lone owl that flew in and delivered a letter to Malfoy.

Almost.

**Great Hall, Draco:**

He didn’t recognize the owl, or the writing on the envelope. Surely it wasn’t more hate mail? He had stopped receiving that a few weeks after his trial- he suspected Potter was to blame for that. He caught Pansy staring at him and shrugged at her. He hadn’t the slightest idea who would be writing him, other than his mother. And he had gotten one just this morning, so it couldn’t be her.

But when he broke the seal and eyed the violent scrawl on the parchment before him, he remembered that there was one other person who might possibly write him.

When his father was sentenced to Azkaban, Draco remembered his mother telling him that it wouldn’t be as bad for him as it was before. She had called in the life debt owed to her by Potter in order for him to make it so that Lucius was able to both send and receive letters. He was also allowed visitors, and wasn’t placed in the part of the prison that the Dementor’s frequented most often. That was all Potter had been able to do, but Draco’s mother was quite pleased with it.

Draco, as he pulled out his father’s letter with a sense of foreboding, was less pleased. And as he read the letter, he began to shake.

_Draco,_

_News has reached me that I find most troubling. Mudbloods have been placed into Slytherin. The noblest House has now been defiled by the most disgusting thing imaginable. Not only that, but Lord Greengrass tells me that he is now faced with the decision of whether or not he is to disown his daughter- I must say that his reluctance to do so leaves me wondering as to where his loyalties truly lie. The youngest Greengrass, I hear, wasted no time in doing what needed to be done._

_The War may be over, but the fight for supremacy is far from being done. There are those who would punish these so called ‘heroes’ or the war. There are those who would punish the disloyal. I know not where your mother falls into that category, but I must warn you Draco, should things turn for the sour, you must be prepared to break with her and stand in your rightful place beside me. While I cannot fault her for what she did, because it secured our family a place in this horrendous new order, there is no denying that her betrayal of Our Lord is what led to his downfall._

_The folly of women and their sentimentalities knows no bounds, Draco, remember that._

_What news that is disturbing to me, however, is that you seem to be acting as a protector towards the filth that now stains the House of our forefathers. I find myself unable to decide whether or not this is pure foolishness or your pitiful attempt at subtle politics. While I cannot say that I am not pleased that you are finally thinking of our family name, and are using people and situations to our advantage- I cannot condone your protection of them._

_Stay out of the way, of course, and allow other fools to do the dirty work but allow the mudbloods to be murdered in the foulest ways possible. Simple be sure that others know you were in another place at the time._

_I have informants everywhere, Draco. Be warned that should you not do what I demand of you, then you may well share the fate of the Greengrass girl._

_Be sure to burn this._

_LM_

His hands were shaking. His blood ran cold. Even here, while his father was in Azkaban and he at Hogwarts, his father could still get to him. Draco felt his face close down. His world narrowed. He was suffocating, suffocating in his own stupidity. How could he possibly have thought that he was free? He was never free. He could never be free. Ice flooded him and deadened his senses. He hadn’t even noticed that he had left the table and was walking somewhere until he heard the door of the Great Hall slam shut.

Draco was lost.

**Great Hall, Pansy:**

As soon as Draco he begun to read the letter that had been delivered, she knew exactly who it was from.  Draco only ever looked like that, like Death itself was clawing at his back, was when his father had written him, explaining his expectations. She looked up at Blaise to see that he was staring intently at her, his eyes told her that he knew exactly what was happening too.

Before she could say anything, Draco had stood and left the Hall, walking slowly; lost to the world around him.

Pansy knew what would happen now. He would remain cold, unfeeling, dead, until someone managed to make him feel again. The killing of his emotions was something that Draco had been doing for years, it was his only defense. The only way he could manage to do what was expected of him, the only way to deal with any part of his life, was not to feel anything. The only emotion to ever wake him up out of his stupor was anger. But even then it could take weeks; months even, to get Draco to return to them. Time was that Pansy would force altercations between Draco and Potter, in the hopes that Potter would piss him off enough for it to work.

But that was before they had Hermione on their side. Not so much Draco’s, but Pansy could honestly call the girl a friend. And she believed that Hermione was still Gryffindor enough to want to help.

Pansy looked over to the Gryffindor table, to see that both Daphne and Theo had their eyes locked on her, wearing expressions identical to the one worn by Blaise. A little farther back showed that Goyle was staring, too. All of them knew that something had to be done, and they were waiting for Pansy to decide it. She looked to the side to see that Hermione was lost- her expression one of confusion and concern. Good. Concern was good.

Without a word, she grabbed Granger’s hand and towed her over to the Gryffindor table, Blaise not far behind them. Once there she beckoned for Goyle to join them, ignoring the piercing stare from McGonagall at breaking the new rule all the while.

**Great Hall, Goyle:**

He had no idea what it was Pansy had planned, but by the looks of it, she was determined to break Draco out of it before the night was done. This was something that they had never accomplished before- the record time being two weeks, in 5th year.  Nevertheless, it was a bad idea to go against anything that Pansy said when she was in this mood, so he sat down at the Gryffindor table next to Daphne and waited to be told what to do. He always had to be there when the broke Draco out of it, because he was prone to doing stupid things like punching people or hurting himself. Greg was strong enough to restrain him.

Greg glanced about the table to see how the Gryffindors were taking this new invasion, but none of them seemed to be too anger about it. Mostly, they just wanted an explanation. Imagine his surprise when it was Potter who was the one to offer it to them.

“He got a letter from Lucius, didn’t he?” Potter asked, his expression clouded. Everyone looked at him, except for Granger, wondering how the hell he knew what was going on. Potter simply rolled his eyes. “I’m actually insulted right now, you know? After all the years we spent fighting each other, watching each other-“

“Stalking each other,” Granger interrupted.

“Oh shut it I only stalked him the one year,” Potter continued, although slightly red-faced. “I know all of you knew this was going on. Did you honestly expect me to never notice this happening?”

Greg blinked, unsure of how to answer that question. Right then he was grateful for not having a large reputation for speaking and therefore wasn’t expected to. Pansy, however, took it in stride.

“Right then,” she stated. “Now that we’ve gotten that out of the way and you obviously know how important it is to get him _out_ of the state his father’s letters leave him in. I’m guessing you know how this is done then, Potter?”

“Anger,” Potter deadpanned.

“Correct. I hate leaving Draco like this, and it’s remarkably hard to affect him when he shuts down. The fastest amount of time we’ve ever gotten him out of it is 3 weeks-“

“Two,” Greg interrupted. “During fifth year. First time we thought to use Potter to piss him off.”

He was surprised at his interruption. So was everyone else, but Greg was interested to see how Potter reacted to being used to help Draco. Much to his relief, Potter didn’t seem to mind it at all.

“So, I’m guessing that you guys want me to run after him and piss him off now, don’t you?” Potter asked, though it was impossible to tell how he felt about it. His tone was carefully neutral, and his face betrayed nothing of his emotions. Greg was impressed, to say the least.

Pansy bit her lip. “Well, we want someone to run after him to piss him off, but there is actually someone who is better at pissing him off than you are, Potter. Besides, I would love for it not to escalate into physical violence and you two don’t have the best history on that front.”

If anyone had asked him, Greg would say that Potter looked a bit at Pansy for saying that someone could piss Draco off better than himself. No one would ask, of course, but it was interesting nonetheless.

“Who, then?” Potter asked.

“It’s me, isn’t it.” Granger said. Although it should have technically been a question, Greg knew it wasn’t. There was a certain resolve evident in her face, and for that Greg was thankful. Draco was a prat, yes, but he wanted his friend out of the senseless state he was in. And it looked to him that Granger thought she would be up for it.

“Please?” Pansy asked. No explanation, just the please.

Much to his relief, Granger nodded.

“He’s down by the lake,” Little Red said, speaking for the first time since everyone invaded the Gryffindor table. Her head was buried in a very large piece of parchment.

He wanted to ask questions, but at the moment they had more important things to attend to.


	15. Chapter 15

**Hermione:**

Goyle was falling right behind her as she quickly made her way through the halls, doing her best not to think about what it was she was about to do, or how she was going to do it. No, thinking about it wasn’t going to anybody any good.

“Not that I don’t appreciate it, but why exactly are you coming with me?” Hermione asked, trying in vain to calm down the apprehension that was eating her heart.

“I have to hold him back,” he answered, and she could feel his eyes scrutinizing her, so all she gave him in response was a nod. Hopefully that gave the impression that she wasn’t bothered.

In reality? Hermione was freaking out. With every step her heart began to beat a little bit faster- and she couldn’t figure out why. To be honest, she didn’t even know why it was that she was trying in the first place. She hated Malfoy, didn’t she? But no- that couldn’t be right. She may not like him, but she certainly didn’t hate him. And for some strange reason, she knew she could trust him. Not much, but she trusted him enough on the night that Dean had been attacked to shield the students. But then, of course he would protect his own House. But Pansy had asked her to do this, and Hermione just couldn’t say no.

As she passed through the doors and the brisk evening air hit her face, Hermione panicked all the more. What was she supposed to do? He was hurting- and she was just supposed to walk up to him and hurt him until he broke? How did that make sense? How could she make herself do it? He was a manipulative and cold bastard, but she couldn’t just walk up to someone that was hurting and make the pain worse. Was there no other way? What if she tried a more kind approach and tried to make him feel _better?_ But no, the fact that Hermione Granger was trying to help him would probably do nothing other than piss him off.

That was it! She would walk right up to him and tell him that she was trying to help him. Maybe it would make him provoke her- which would make Hermione’s job a lot easier. A bully she was not, but if he antagonized her than her tongue would sharpen of its own accord.

Malfoy was sitting at the edge of the lake with his knees brought up to his chest and his arms wrapped around him. In some back corner of her mind Hermione noticed that Goyle had gone over to sit among the rocks, to wait. But all of her attention was on the boy in front of her. The boy who, in his desire to look closed off from everything around him, looked the most vulnerable that she had ever seen him. He was so still, as if to be made of stone. The wind tousled his hair, and made him squint his eyes as it blew across his face. A shiver went through his body, and for some reason, some part of Hermione began to ache.

It wasn’t until Malfoy had closed his eyes completely that she recognized why.

Here, where he thought no one was watching, Malfoy had revealed something that he had done it his to hide from the world. Here, he showed that he was human.

And now she had to break him.

Gathering her courage, Hermione walked right up to him, and she knew the exact moment that he heard her, because she saw him stiffen and raise his defenses. And when he turned his head to her, his eyes that she had been so taken with before, were dead. His face didn’t even change when he saw that it was Hermione who came to him, and not Pansy. How was she supposed to do this? Best just to start with the truth.

“Pansy sent me out here to help you,” Hermione stated, searching his face for a reaction. If anything, his eyes grew colder. This was going to be harder than she thought.

“I haven’t the slightest idea as to why she would send me out here, though the general consensus is that I am able to get a reaction out of you quicker than Harry would. He didn’t seem too pleased to hear that, surprisingly enough. I’m not sure I think they’re right,” she ventured. But he gave her nothing. He was openly staring at her, but he seemed just as vacant as he had before. Apparently the fact that Hermione was here to help him didn’t anger him as much as she had thought it would.

Interesting.

What then, got under his skin the best? Vulnerability was a good option, especially since she had once read that when a person closed themselves off from the world it was because they were afraid of being vulnerable. And so, Hermione channeled her inner-bitch, and began to try and make Malfoy vulnerable.

“Alright then, ferret. This reminds me, there is something I’ve wanted to point out for a while now. You are a ferret. Did you know that ferrets are part of the Weasel family? No? Well then, now you do,” Hermione said. Did his eyes narrow slightly? She hoped so.

It really shouldn’t have, but the fact that she was doing this on purpose wasn’t sitting well with her.

“Anyway. Ferret. I’d like to talk about what happened in the bathroom… You apologized to me. You really threw me with that one- especially with all of that crap about not wanting to be like your father. You don’t want to be like him? Well that strikes me as odd considering the fact that you’ve been trying to turn yourself into his miniature for as long as I’ve known you-“

“You know nothing about me.”

Well! This was certainly progress, right? His voice was cold, though. It lacked the venom she had been hoping for. It sounded hopeless, dead, even. But he had spoken. She had his attention.

“You think I don’t know you? I’ll tell you what I know, and then we shall see.”

Malfoy was now turned fully towards her, though he was still hugging his knees to his chest. Hermione sat down six feet in front of him, legs crossed, holding her hands tightly in her lap so that hopefully he wouldn’t see that they were shaking. Once she was settled, Hermione began to tell every odd thing that had ever puzzled her about Draco Malfoy.

“I know your face is soft, for all that it’s pointy. I wasn’t expecting to be met with soft skin or warmth when I hit you third year. I also know that on some level you either felt like you deserved it or respected me for it, because you have never brought it up or tried to seek revenge,” she sat. Hermione’s voice was cold; it had to be, because otherwise it might waver.

He gave no reaction, but she saw his hands were in his lap. Hermione wondered if his hands were shaking as badly as hers were.

“I know that you didn’t want the Death Eaters to get ahold of me at the Quidditch World Cup. Harry and Ron weren’t paying much attention, they didn’t notice you, Crabbe, and Goyle running around, searching. They only saw you once you were calm and standing right before us. And then you disguised it as an insult- your warning. But it was a warning just the same. I saw the relief in your eyes when they dragged me out of there. Why didn’t you want them to get me? Was it because I had earned your respect the year before? Or do you really not hate mudbloods as much as you claim to?”

His eyes had widened, ever so slightly. Was it that he hadn’t known that she had noticed? Or was it because she had called herself a mudblood? She kept going.

“I know that you couldn’t keep your eyes off of me at the Yule Ball. I know it was quite a transition. I was so thrilled when it had the desired effect- you did know that I did it just to shut you up, didn’t you? Well, you and others like you. I can be feminine when I wish it, and it was time for you all to know that. I never expected to be the only thing to hold your attention the whole night. I know that, when you thought no one was looking, you smiled at me. It was a confused little smile, but it was a smile nonetheless. How was it sitting with you? The fact that you couldn’t keep your eyes off of a mudblood, while you had a pureblood held in your arms?”

His face was still closed, but she knew that she was getting to him. Her eyes had never left him while she spoke, and because of it, she noticed that his chest was rising and falling a bit faster than it was before. A good thing, because all of these thoughts of the past were bringing up a lot of forgotten emotion and she hadn’t an idea of how much longer she could do this.

“I know that you knew about the DA long before Umbridge caught us. Which means you didn’t tell a soul. Want to know how I know? You were bragging once, during third year, about your specially made cologne from Italy. One of a kind, you were proud to point out to any who would hear. Well, I got a chance to smell it when I got close enough to hit you. But then I smelled it again during the first DA meeting at the Hogshead. You were there. You were hiding in the back, near the woman who looked like a banshee. Why is it you never told, I wonder?”

Yes, his eyes were definitely wider now. No doubt about that. But nothing she was saying was enough. She had hoped that she wouldn’t have to actually make him angry, that vulnerability would be enough, but it wouldn’t be. She was going to have to piss him off, and maybe hurt him in the process. The idea of putting another through what had been done to her all of her life made her sick to her stomach. Hermione hated bullies. She hated them. But Pansy had asked her to do this. And so Hermione pressed on.

“I know that you stood by and did nothing while I was tortured right in front of you,” Hermione had to stop for a moment. Her throat was clogging itself with the memory. She had a hard enough time confronting it while she was asleep, let alone awake. “I know that you stood there, and watched- you face was as impassive then as it is now. I know this, because I was staring at you the whole time, do you remember? As I screamed, I looked at you. As I begged your Aunt to stop, as I tried to keep my wits about me to lie to her, I was looking at you. I was begging you to help me, and you did nothing.”

Hermione had stopped trying to hold back the emotion in her voice. Her throat felt raw, and she could feel the tears falling down her cheeks, and she stared at Malfoy, her gaze accusing. He didn’t take his eyes off of her either. There was a furrow so small in his brow that she thought it might not even be there. But there was no denying the pace of his breathing, or his parted lips. It was working. Which was a good thing, because at this point she couldn’t have stopped herself if she had tried.

“Your father was next to you. He was smiling, glad to see the mudblood getting what it deserved. Were you glad? You must have been, because you did nothing. You would have stood there and watched her torture me for hours if it had lasted that long, wouldn’t you? You would have stood there and watched as Bellatrix either killed me or tortured me into insanity. No, you didn’t tell them who we were. But you stood there and _did nothing._ Which means that you enjoyed it. Or, maybe you didn’t. Maybe it bothered you a little. But you did nothing, because you’re a coward. You’ve always been a coward, and you always will be.”

Malfoy’s mouth was closed now, his lips pressed into a firm line. She had gotten to him, but she had gotten to him with a lie. It took bravery to refuse to kill Dumbledore. It took bravery not to turn them in. She had it on good authority that he had been tortured for it later- House Elves liked to talk, if you were persistent enough. She also knew that Malfoy didn’t ever really want to be like his father. And she knew that he wasn’t. But if this was going to work, he had to believe that Hermione believed in her lies.

She stood and looked down at him, she had gotten to him. And now she had to go in for the kill.

“A coward and a failure, no wonder your father was never proud of you,” she said. For what came next, Hermione mimicked the mocking tone that was so favored by Bellatrix when she was taunting her victims. “Did daddy know that his wittle boy had protected a mudblood? Did he know that he had once thought her attractive? What would daddy say if he knew? But daddy didn’t need to know those things to know you were a failure, did he? Did he Malfoy? Because everyone knows that Draco Malfoy is a failure and a coward who can’t even redeem himself with intelligence because he’s always come in second to a mudblood! Poor, pathetic, cowardly, Malfoy. No wonder your father never loved you-“

“-ARGH!”

Malfoy’s howl of rage had twisted his face so that it wasn’t recognizable. He launched himself at Hermione, and his eyes told her that he was going to kill her. His wand lay forgotten on the ground as he launched himself; he was going to kill her with his bare hands. But then Goyle was there, holding him back. And as he thrashed against Goyle’s hold, Hermione could see the tears streaming down his face. His angry shouts were unintelligible, and they shot straight into her soul. She had helped him, right? So why did she feel disgusted with herself?

“I-I was lying, I know that you aren’t a coward… I’m sorry,” Hermione gasped through the sobs going through her body. “Oh, Godric I’m _so_ sorry!”

She doubted that he had heard her, but she hoped that he did. She couldn’t stand there and watch the aftermath of what she’d done, and so Hermione turned around and ran.

She ran faster than she could ever remember running. She ran through the doors and down the corridors, leaving tears in her wake. She burst through the Slytherin Common Room and then flew to her own portrait- ignoring the gasps of everyone there. Required time, be damned. She couldn’t stand the thought of being around others after what she had done.

She felt sick, she felt disgusting. She felt no better than those who had tormented her all of her life. Hermione rushed to the toilet and locked the doors behind her, before she fell to the floor and retched up everything she had ever thought of eating in her life, wondering who the hell she had become.

**Goyle:**

He had watched the whole thing, he had heard everything. Granger had told things that he hadn’t thought anyone else knew about, but somehow she had. Greg had always thought that Granger was too smart for her own good.

But she had done it, and he had known that as soon as she had started in on Draco’s father that he had to be ready to move. It had all gone according to plan- until Granger had broken down.

“I-I was lying, I know that you aren’t a coward… I’m sorry! Oh, Godric I’m _so_ sorry!”

Granger had had him convinced that she had believed everything that she was saying, but he was torn from his thoughts when he almost lost his hold on Draco. Perhaps her apology would make it easier to calm Draco down than normal, and he hoped that was the case. Allowing Draco to beat up on him until he came to his senses hurt a lot more than he would ever admit.

As his best friend struggled in his arms, sorrow welled up in him. Greg wanted nothing more than to help out his friend, but he had never been a man of many words, and as such he had no idea what to say. Never had he regretted his near constant silence more than in this moment. His heart hurt for his friend, and there was nothing he could do about it. But he damned if he wasn’t going to at least give it a shot. And so, ignoring Draco’s unintelligible curses, Greg tried to speak.

“Draco,” Greg’s voice was a lot stronger than he had thought it would be.  “Listen to me, mate. Did you hear her? She doesn’t believe what she said. She said she was lying. You aren’t a coward, Draco. You know this. She was lying, Pansy sent her out here to set you off, and she did it. But she was lying. You’re not a coward. You hear me? Not a coward. She was _lying_ Draco.”

He knew he was being repetitive. He knew he wasn’t eloquent, but for some reason, it was working. Draco had stopped cursing and was now simply trying to escape.

“No, I’m not letting you go until you hear me. She sat there and pointed out exactly how you _aren’t_ like your father. She knows you’re nothing like him. You’re a better man than he was, Draco, and you’re not a coward. Merlin knows you are not a coward. She was lying. Now pull yourself together because I think Pansy is coming and if she sees you like this then you’re going to have to deal with one of her hugs. Think about it, mate. One of Pansy’s hugs. Nothing is worth that,” he said, completely serious.

And then a miracle happened, and Draco stilled in his arms, going limp, and then he spoke.

“I get the point, alright? Now put me down before she gets here,” Draco said. His voice was hoarse and shaky, but it lacked the violence that was then before.

“You’re not going to try to kill Granger?” Greg asked.

“No.”

And so Greg put his friend down and stepped away to give him space. He had meant to keep watching him, but then he could hear Pansy’s screeching and he had to turn to prepare to defend himself from her. No one knew what to expect once Pansy started screeching.

“Gregory!”

He flinched. He hated it when people used his full name, and she knew it. Her eyes were wild, and completely centered on him, and he doubted that she even remembered that Draco was there. Which was good, he thought, because it would give his friend a moment to compose himself.

“You were supposed to keep him from doing anything stupid! So imagine my surprise when Hermione comes running past me in the corridor with tears running down her face and looking as if someone had died?! What happened out here? She was supposed to piss off Draco, not get hurt herself! Did you leave them alone? You should know bett- wait, where is he?” she finished, when she had finally taken her eyes off of Greg to look around them.

Greg looked at her as if she was senile.

“What are you talking about, he’s right-“but he had to cut himself off. Draco was nowhere in sight.

Bugger it all, he must have disappeared when Pansy was yelling at him. He tried to see if there was anyone going up to the castle, but the grounds were dark, and his eyesight wasn’t the best. A thought occurred to him, and while Pansy was calling out for their friend, Greg was searching the ground where he was _positive_ he had seen it fall. But it wasn’t there.

Draco was gone, and he had taken his wand with him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Phew! Thank you everyone for your reviews, and I hope this chapter meets your expectations!


	16. Chapter 16

**Storming through the Castle, Draco:**

He didn’t know how long he had before Pansy and Greg noticed that he was gone, but he doubted it would be much time. That said, Draco allowed the fury and confusion welling up inside him to fuel his steps and propel himself forward so quickly that he might as well have been running down to the dungeons to confront Granger. Not that Granger was the only one he needed to deal with; Pansy had something coming to her too for siccing Granger on him in the first place. And Granger, well, Granger had just given him plenty of reason to do as his father bade him in the letter.

Why did Granger know so much? Why did she notice? How dare she open him like a book and then burn his pages? Why did she know exactly what to say in order to invoke a rage so strong that he could feel his magic fighting to break free?

And what was worse- Draco couldn’t figure out who exactly his rage was aimed at. Was it really aimed at Granger, who had simply spoken facts? Or was it aimed at his father? His father that had been poisoning his mind and controlling his life since he could speak, all the while ensuring the fact that Draco knew exactly how disappointed he was in him. Nothing Draco did was ever enough. He no longer knew what thoughts were his own and what thoughts had been placed there by his father.

But what did it matter when Draco couldn’t decide whether or not he still believed in his old beliefs- or if he ever had, really. Who was he? He knew that he could feel things changing around him, but here he was fighting to hang on to who he is, and he didn’t even know who that was. All he had was his past. His decisions, his beliefs, and the consequences he faced were all he had that was grounding Draco to himself. Who did he want to be? All of these questions, all of these things forced into his mind by Granger- no, by his father AND Granger and everyone else who was trying to push or pull him in a certain direction or make him face up to what once was, it was just too much. Which could really only mean one thing.

Somewhere in his mind he knew that it was himself he was truly angry with, but Granger had made herself a target.

And as his thoughts once more focused on Granger, everything else disappeared. He was no longer thinking, just going where his feet were taking him, despite the fact that his grip on his wand was painful.

And the feeling, this possession of his body by his rage, it was almost euphoric. Because in taking over his body it shut off his brain that had been ticking non-stop, questioning everything, to the point of madness. This was better than the non-feeling, because in his non-feeling he still thought, but now all he could feel was his pain and his rage and he no longer had to think about a damned thing. In this one taste of this possession, Draco felt like he could be addicted.

So gone in his thoughtless bliss, Draco did not notice when he entered the common room. He did not notice the stares that were already on the door that Granger had recently fled through, nor did he notice the stares upon his own person. He did not notice when he entered through his own portrait, nor did he know when he went up the stairs and into Granger’s room. He did not hear the unearthly howl that tore from his throat when he saw that she was not there or feel the tears splashing against his cheeks, and he didn’t notice when his wand arm raised and blasted through the bathroom door. He did not hear the door smack into the wall, and he did not notice that his wand was aimed at the crumpled form of Hermione Granger.

But he did notice, however, the sound of Granger’s wand as she threw it to the ground, submitting to what curse was upon Draco’s lips.

He stopped cold, and just like that, his euphoric possession of rage had dissipated and he was left to face the truth of what was in front of him.

Despite the fact that everything had been cleaned, Draco knew well the metallic odor in the air, the odor that told him quite clearly that Granger’s body had disagreed strongly with its actions. And the sounds… the sounds she was making… the strangled gasps and shuddering sobs that moved her small frame of their own volition so closely matched the ones he had been a victim too not very long ago. Those were the sounds that dug into his soul and wrenched it open, forcing his prejudiced eyes to open and accept what was happening before him when otherwise he may have shuddered his mind and turned up his nose in rejection of the blatant sorrow and despair of the tiny witch with the untamed mass of hair who had discarded her wand, saying to all who could see with clear eyes that she accepted whatever punishment was deserved.

Then there they were. The words that he had been too distraught to pay any attention to earlier, mistaken for a parting dig, they were there echoing in his mind, judging him and damning his all at once.

_“I-I was lying, I know that you aren’t a coward… I’m sorry! Oh, Godric I’m so sorry!”_

His knees gave out beneath him and Draco collapsed to the ground, allowing his wand to fall from his fingers and clatter to the ground. Their heavy breathing was the only sound in the small little bathroom, but it was loud enough to drown out his confusion and helplessness. His puffy eyes met her red tearstained face and Draco had to fight the urge to laugh lest he go completely hysterical. For here they were, two enemies, completely vulnerable and open without a mask in the world to hide them from each other. And neither was making a move against the other. In fact, they seemed to be taking solace in the pain and discomfort of the other, because as they both sat there in the damning and suffocating silence, their tears ceased and their breathing eased. In another time, Draco might have thought the situation comical. But there was nothing even remotely funny about the gravel on stone croak that was Granger’s voice as she cut through the quiet.

“I’m sorry.”

To which Draco replied, “Thank you.”

Because really, what else to do you say to someone who tore herself to bits in order to free you from the non-feeling prison that your father’s words condemned you to suffer inside? Despite the rage, and his confusion, and the millions of questions that would at some point need to be asked and answered between them, there was nothing else appropriate to say. Nothing else fit.

“You’re not a coward,” she told him.

“Never call yourself that name again,” he answered.

“Your father is a bastard,” she said, because it did need to be said. For her to say and him to hear.

“So was my aunt,” he offered, because that needed to be said too. For her to hear and him to acknowledge as truth.

And then they were both nodding silently, and the tension eased, because that was what was needed and nothing more.

Caught up in their own moment, neither noticed the invisible figure that was Ginny head out of Hermione’s room and back out the portrait to inform a hysterical Pansy that no one was dead.

**Gryffindor Girl’s Dorm, Daphne:**

Despite the fact that she knew she had a place with the boys, there was just something serious about sleeping with someone you were involved in. And although neither of them was exactly sure how it happened, but after the events that morning Daphne had decided that she needed her happiness wherever she could get it, and Neville was the only person who could really make her smile. Did she wish she was cuddled up next to him right now? Of course. But the Pratil twins were having their friend Lisa Turpin over for the night and Daphne though that maybe because of that, things would be okay. So, despite the arguments of everyone else, Daphne was curled up in her own bed, doing her best to ignore the giggling that was coming from the corner.

It wasn’t until she was about to fall asleep that they attacked.

Suddenly she was tossed from her bed and onto the floor while they laughed their glee. When Daphne got to her feet and summoned her wand to her hand, she saw that Turpin was laughing just as hard as the twins. At that, Daphne snapped, and although she knew it was foolish to try and attack three opponents at once, she did it anyway.

It just wasn’t fair. Didn’t she have enough to deal with, what with her sister publicly disowning her? Daphne knew that her parents wouldn’t be far behind, and it was miracle that it hadn’t been done already. She refused to allow the females to make her life harder on her than it needed to be, not without fighting.

Some corner of her mind wondered when exactly the penchant Slytherin trait of self-preservation had been replaced with Gryffindor rashness. Was it before or after the Sorting? But soon these thoughts were driven from her mind as she needed to focus all of her energy on not allowing herself to be murdered. Little Red had threatened that if Daphne got herself killed by her own stupidity, she would have to deal with Her afterwards. The threat was a real one, and Daphne, for one, did not want to be forced to figure out exactly how Little Red would manage it.

A stinging jinx caught Daphne in this cheek and knocked her into the door, but before that Daphne had hit Padma with a successful body bind. Instead of trying to revive her, Parvati and Turpin continued to assail Daphne with a legion of hexes and curses, moving so quickly that soon she only had time to block. And then something happened, and the door behind her opened and Daphne was sent flying down the stairs, hitting painfully, until she landed flat on her back in the common room.

She had landed on her shoulder, and pain from it was trying to cloud her ability to think. But that wouldn’t do because she could hear their laughter getting louder, and Daphne no longer had her wand. Somewhere between falling down the stairs and dislocating her shoulder, she had been disarmed.

Not a stranger to wandless magic, she did her best to erect a shield, but it was pathetic at best, and try as she might she just couldn’t shift her weight around enough to be able to stand. That did not, of course, stop her from trying. Ignoring the pain shooting daggers into various points of her body, Daphne made it to her knees by the time the three girls reached the foot of the stairs. And when they walked into the common room, wands raised, all three of them were disarmed and stunned and Daphne was flailing trying to see where the attack had come from.

The question was soon answered as Harry, Theo, and Neville all dropped their disillusionment charms and came to her aide. All three were cursing loudly and Harry had to stop Theo from stomping on their faces. And though Neville’s voice was harsh as he ranted on about airheaded bints that were a disgrace to society, his hands were gentle as he healed Daphne’s various cuts and bruises, fixing her shoulder last. When he was finished, he half pushed/ half dragged Daphne up the stairs to the Boy’s Dorm and left Harry and Theo to deal with her attackers.

“Seriously, Daph, unless Ginny is here you’re sleeping with us,” Neville began once he had closed the door behind them. “I can understand if you don’t want to sleep with me cause we’ve only just started and all, but we’ll come up with something, yeah?”

Daphne answered by crawling into Neville’s bed and burying her face in his pillows, no longing caring about what was proper and what wasn’t.

That night, Neville held her and comforted her as she cried herself to sleep.


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for sticking with this story!!!

**October 4th, Morning, Hermione:**

She woke up groggy, and with the distinct taste of hot chocolate in her mouth, though it took her a moment to remember why.

At some point while she and Malfoy sat together on the bathroom floor, Ginny had shown up and forced the two of them to drink a mug of hot chocolate before ushering the snuffling duo into the respective beds. Never had Hermione seen her friend emulate her mother more than in that very moment, even Malfoy didn’t dare to do anything other than exactly as Ginny said.

That night Hermione had fallen asleep almost as soon as her head hit the pillow, relaxing into the hands rubbing circles on her back, grateful for an escape from the intense emotions and feelings that were so confusing and contradictory that they couldn’t be sorted out rationally. Sleep was the perfect escape from that.

Now, however, that she was awake, Hermione had no way to hide from everything that her mind had had problems trying to sort out the night before. But the worst part about waking up that morning was the realization of how badly her chest was aching- as if someone had taken to carving runes into her heart as she slept. The pain was so intense that it had the tears falling down her cheeks hot and fast, faster than Hermione could even come up for a reason why she was crying.

When she tore Malfoy’s wall to shambles, she hadn’t quite realized that she had been doing the same to hers, as well.

And what was with being able to accomplish the task Pansy had set before her, anyway? Why was she able to do it? Did doing it turn her into the monster that she had always imagined Slytherin’s to be? But that couldn’t be so, could it? Surely if Hermione had become a monster during the War, her friends wouldn’t still be there for her, would they? Her friends would have abandoned her if that were the case… but some of her friends had. Ron had left; he wanted nothing to do with her. Was he right? Was Hermione as big a traitor as he claimed that she was?

These thoughts clamored about with the guilt over what she had done to Malfoy, despite the fact that he had thanked her after very nearly going through with the rage in his eyes and killing her. Hermione wasn’t thinking when she dropped her wand, but she just couldn’t bring herself to guard against him. Not when it was her fault. Not when she deserved it.

But she couldn’t start thinking about Malfoy, not now, not when she was already confused about so many things. She had no idea what to do about him anymore- why had he told her never to call herself a mudblood? Was him saying that his aunt was a bastard his way of apologizing? Or was that his way of stating that he hadn’t wanted her to be tortured in the first place? What had stopped him from cursing her? No, thinking about Draco Malfoy was not a good idea, not if she wanted to keep her sanity.

Hermione could only hope that she wouldn’t have to speak with him about what had happened anytime soon.

When she rolled over she noticed that although the spot next to her was still warm, Ginny was nowhere to be seen. She must have left not long ago. Shrugging, and slightly relieved that she wouldn’t have to relive the events of the night before quite yet, Hermione got ready for her shower and appealed to whomever might be listening that she not have to have yet another bathroom encounter with Malfoy that morning.

**Slytherin Common Room, Pansy:**

Exhaustion clung to her as Pansy sat on the couch in front of the portrait that led to the Head’s Dorm and stared at it intently, refusing to turn her attention from it for any reason and risk missing either of her friends leaving. She had hardly slept that night, despite Little Red’s assurances that both of them were alive and more or less unharmed. More or less unharmed could mean a lot of things, though Greg was positive that no physical harm would have come to them, Draco’s rage notwithstanding.

For what must have been the millionth time she questioned her decision to send Hermione after Draco in the first place. Those two were explosive in their own right, let alone when emotions were high. Blaise had to keep reminding her that this was the exact same reason that Hermione had been chosen anyway, and worries or not, it had worked. Not for the first time Pansy cringed, remembering the mantra that had been haunting her since she had first heard it escape from her mother’s lips, ‘for the greater good.’

Ignoring the damage it would do to Hermione, and accepting the damage done to Draco as the lesser of two evils, Pansy had acted for the greater good. And now she was left wondering how big a price must be paid for that act.

The portrait began to finally creak open and she leapt to her feet, ready to trap whoever it was and demand that they submit themselves to a once over with her wand, when she heard Draco curse. His curse was followed almost immediately by a loud thump and the sound of books and other supplies falling to the floor. Some sheaves of parchment slipped through the small opening that the barely opened portrait made and so Pansy went to pick them up and put them into some kind of order, knowing how much her dear friend hated having his things untidy. But one of the pieces of parchment was actually a rather thick envelope. A rather thick envelope that held an address on it that made Pansy stop what she was doing and stare it in shock- her disinterested mask not even attempting to fall into place.

_Mr. Arthur Weasley_

_The Burrow_

She was still staring at the envelope in her hands when Draco finally emerged, frantically searching for, what she assumed, was that very same letter. He stopped short when he saw her, and for the first time in her life, Pansy was unable to read the expression in her friends eyes as he looked from the letter in her hands to her face and back again, as if deciding how good his chances were that he would be able to grab it and run without her being able to do something about it. And although she was now nearly bursting with questions and the need to demand the answers about this new development was nearly overwhelming, the need to pull Draco into her arms and squeeze the redness out of his eyes was stronger. Barely.

And so, Pansy did one of the hardest things she had ever done, and held the parchments and the letter out to him, noting the bewilderment etched into his features as he hastily grabbed it back and the way his shoulders tensed, as if waiting for the onslaught.

“I won’t ask, Draco. Just tell me when you can,” she said softly, although she had to force each syllable out with as much willpower as she had. Pansy _hated_ not knowing things, and to willingly pass up on a chance to get answers was the most out of character thing that she had ever done. The gratitude and relief on her best friend’s face, however, was completely worth it, in her opinion. After a moment passed between them, she cleared her throat imperiously.

“Don’t think that you’re off the hook completely, Draco,” she started, before lunging forward and squeezing the life out of him. She knew that all of her friends claimed not to like her hugs, but she felt as if there had to be at least some small part of them that did, a bit, or else they wouldn’t allow her to give them as much as she did. When she released him, Pansy didn’t even give the lad enough time to catch his breath before starting in on him. “What happened, darling? I mean I understand the basics dear, but as far as what happened between you and Granger…”

His eyes snapped open at this, and the glare he sent her way was surely meant to inspire terror, though all it accomplished was to fill Pansy with joy at the sight of her friend getting some of his fire back.

“About that, just where do you get off send-” Draco began, a lecture on the tip of his tongue, but it was interrupted by the portrait swinging open once again to reveal a Hermione that looked just as awful as Draco did.

For the most part that year Granger’s curls had been kept in some sort of organized chaos, but that day there was no organization about them, they ran wild and free. But that was not the most interesting bit about her appearance that morning. No, it was the way Draco’s posture changed, leaving him looking vulnerable and guarded all at the same time. And then there was Hermione who, upon noticing Draco and Pansy standing right before her, seemed to shrink about two sizes all the while sticking her chin up slightly in defiance.

For a moment nothing was said, and Pansy was left staring at the pair before her who were eyeing one another as if the other was the most interesting Dementor they had ever encountered in their lives. Terrified, but unable to look away at the same time. Alarms of all shapes and sizes were sounding off in Pansy’s mind, though she hadn’t the slightest idea as to what they all meant. Hermione recovered first, coughing slightly before straightening and addressing them both.

“Good morning Pansy, Malfoy,” she said softly. “Erm, Malfoy, did a house elf drop a note from McGonagall by you this morning as well?”

Pansy felt as though she didn’t really exist at that moment, for although neither Draco nor Hermione were looking at one another anymore, it was very clear that all of their attention was focused on the other. Instead of being put off by this, she instead took this as a rare opportunity and examined every movement her friends were making, and the picture that was being painted in Pansy’s mind wasn’t making the slightest bit of sense whatsoever. She saw Draco shift, and stare intently at the stitching on his shoes, while he answered.

“Yes, actually, she wanted to meet us before breakfast, I was just going to attempt to run a small errand beforehand. Though I suppose that can wait until later, now,” Draco responded, using a light and conversational tone that wasn’t fooling anyone. It wasn’t fooling Pansy, and it most certainly wasn’t fooling Draco, she could see the cringe in her friend’s eyes easily.

“Are you sure? I’m positive that I can head her off if you wanted to do it now…”

“No, really, it’s fine. Let’s just go and get this meeting over with, yeah?” Draco rushed, and Pansy caught him chewing the inside of his cheek, which only baffled her even more.

Just what the hell was going on? Did Little Red know?

“Alright then, shall we?” Hermione asked as she took a few hesitant steps in the direction of the door, still looking anywhere but at Draco. Either that or she had never seen a stone ceiling before.

“Indeed. Cheers, Pansy,” Draco nodded in her direction. Pansy didn’t even have a chance to offer a parting comment of her own before they were out the door and gone from sight- walking quickly but well away from each other.

What in the name of Salazar’s Forked Tongue was going on?! What did she miss?! Nothing was adding up, nothing made sense, and she hated it. She wanted answers, and since she couldn’t have those, she needed to freak out- but there was only one person who was available for it because Madam Pomfrey had told Pansy that she couldn’t come to see Dean that morning due to his final tests. Heart beating fast, Pansy did the only thing she could think to do.

Off like a shot, Pansy sprinted in the direction of the boy’s dormitories yelling for Blaise.

**Her Office, Minerva McGonagall:**

She had no idea what to do with the pair of students sitting before her. She had expected to have a simple meeting with her Head Boy and Head Girl discussing the rules put into place at the start of term feast, yet there they were, halfway into the meeting, and yet Minerva was the only one to have spoken a single word.

The tension between her students wasn’t the normal undercurrent of hatred, but it was nothing that she had ever seen before. The best way that Minerva could describe it to herself was that for the first time in 7 years Hermione Granger and Draco Malfoy were fully and completely aware that the other individual existed, and they hadn’t quite managed to finish processing that information. The moment she had first looked upon them, the Headmistress had had to press her lips into a firm line in order to hold in her laughter. Unfortunately by now the situation had lost some of its hilarity and she was beginning to resent the soft laughter that she could _just_ hear coming from the direction of Albus’ portrait.

Merlin but she dreaded the day that Severus’ portrait was completed and she had to deal with him as well.

“I did not invite the both of you here so that I might listen to myself speak, I did ask you here because as Head Boy and Girl I would like to receive your input on such matters,” Minerva admonished gently, trying to pry a response from either of the individuals in front of her.

“Well,” Hermione began. “You stated in our start of term letters that the entire purpose of this exercise is to promote House Unity. And yet there are so many regulations in place that are keeping students glued to their Houses. I think it’s time that we dropped the new regulations so that we can see whether or not this experiment will actually work, don’t you?”

Why was it she had wanted to get her student’s opinion, again? Minerva could now _clearly_ hear the portrait of her mentor laughing outright, and she vowed to find a way to silence him at some point. She already felt made a fool by Ms. Granger, she did not need the same from Albus as well. And though she respected Ms. Granger far more than she would ever let on, the bluntness of her former House member was still slightly irritating.

What was more irritating was the Ms. Granger was correct. She wouldn’t allow her students to leave without getting in the final word, however.

“Very well, the new regulations are hereby dropped. You are both dismissed to breakfast,” Minerva stated. She waited until they were at the door before adding something. “Oh, and before I forget, Peeves took the liberty of repainting the House Tables last night. Each table now is painted with the House Crest and colors of another. I trust that you’ll both have a chat with him? Lovely.”

**Lunchtime, Library, Seamus Finnegan:**

As glad as he was that his best mate was back on his feet, Seamus didn’t really want to spend the entirety of his lunch break helping Dean get caught up on his coursework. He knew that he had it easy, and that Hermione and Parkinson would be helping Dean out with most of it, but he’d had double potions with the Hufflepuffs earlier and he’d used up most of his energy trying to perfect the Blood Replenishing potion he had been working on. His brain was completely dead, which might explain the reason he was having such a rough time wrapping his head around the fact that Parkinson was going out of her way to help Dean in the first place.

“So, wait a mo’. Parkinson is helping you with all of this… why?” Seamus asked. He really didn’t feel like he deserved the glare that Dean threw at him.

“Her name is Pansy. And where’ve you been? She and I have been friends since about a week into term. You knew this already, mate.”

“I know you’ve been friends, yeah, but I feel like you’re not telling me something here.”

Whatever he had expected, Dean blushing and refusing to meet his eyes most definitely wasn’t it. About to reach over and snatch up the book Dean was blushing into and make his mate tell him just what the bloody hell was going on, Seamus stopped, listening. He could have sworn he heard Harry and Hermione arguing about something. Sure enough, a few seconds later they rounded the corner and made to leave the library, still talking quite loudly and unaware of whom may be listening in.

“I’m sorry Hermione but there is just no way that I can get him to listen to you, despite the progress we made last year,” Harry told her, and Seamus thought he might have sounded a bit exasperated.

“Not even if you order him? I mean, I do have another option but it’s not one I really want to turn to, especially because once you lot find out about it you’re never going to let me live it down. But Harry, surely he cannot disobey a direct order?” Hermione begged.

Seamus tried to strain his ears to see if he could catch Harry’s response, but by then they were already too far away and the only thing he could see was Hermione hanging her head in disappointment. He looked to Dean, hoping that his friend might be able to shed some light on that overheard conversation, but he looked just as flummoxed as Seamus felt.

“Don’t look at me mate, I’ve been stuck in the Hospital Wing,” Dean said, shaking his head. He turned back down to his book a bit too eagerly, as if hoping that Seamus would forget what they were talking about before their friends had interrupted them.

Grinning, Seamus snatched up the Ancient Runes book and raised his eyebrows at his friend, waiting. For a split second Dean looked cross, but once that moment passed there was a slight grin on his face as he threw up his arms in defeat.

“Alright, you win!” Dean laughed. “So, she’s been too see me several times a day since I’ve been in the Hospital Wing…”

**Owlry, Around Midnight, Draco:**

He watched the owl that held his letter fly off into the distance with a heavy feeling in his heart. All day he had debated about sending it off, but now it was done, and there was no turning back. He could only hope that it is received in the spirit with which it was sent- though at this point it could really go either way. If nothing else, Draco had sealed his fate in one way or another.

There was no particular reason for why he had chosen the Father Weasley, merely that once he had decided to do it; his was the first name that came to mind. Perhaps it was because of the animosity between their families, or perhaps it was because Draco knew that, at the very least, if he had chosen anyone other than the Father Weasley there was more of a chance of everything blowing up in his face much the same way that Peeves had blown up several objects in his face earlier.

Merlin but that meeting had been awful! For over an hour he and Granger had attempted to reason with the poltergeist while Peeves had blown raspberries, sung at the top of his lungs, and pelted them with moldy peanuts. On top of that, Draco was still unsure of what to do about Granger.

It was clear that neither of them really wished to have the discussion that they both knew would have to come eventually, but to be quite honest Draco felt that it was very possible that the two of them would be able to avoid that particular interaction for quite some time, if they worked at it. One thing Draco was completely sure of, though, was that he was getting rather tired of spending all of his time thinking about Granger.

He exited the owlry and continued along on his patrol, doing his best to find something to entertain his mind other than confronting the events of the night before.

As he passed a portrait of a blonde-haired witch, Draco remembered that he had caught Blaise talking to Loony Lovegood after dinner in the Entrance Hall. What was that all about? First his best mate was asking strange questions about the girl’s sanity and next he is seeking her out for a conversation? As much as he wanted to ask, he was also slightly afraid of having another conversation about the chit like the one they’d had before. His sanity was in enough danger, thank you very much.

Though it seemed as if insanity was catching, those days. Especially when Draco considered the relationship that had sprung up between Daph and _Longbottom_ of all people. Yes, the bloke had chopped off the head of that scaled monstrosity, but surely that wasn’t grounds enough to fall for the man. Then again, if he had been in the same position as her, he would probably be seeking out comfort in some rather strange places as well.

Draco’s heartbeat quickened as he realized that he was a hairbreadth away from being in that position, and once again his mind wandered around to Granger, try as he might to stop it. It was then, as he was scowling at everything in sight, that a portrait of a large bowl of fruit opened up and the very same bushy haired witch that had been dominating his thought process stepped out, clearly determined to try not to be seen.

 He should have stopped her and questioned just what she was doing sneaking out of the kitchens, for he was quite curious, but that would mean that he would have to initiate conversation with her. Since that was something he would rather avoid at all costs, he ignored what he had seen and tried to go back to his patrol in peace. Unfortunately by that point he could think about nothing other than Granger, because everything always seemed to come back to her.

He wanted to know everything about her, but he wanted nothing to do with her.

Draco was quite certain that if things continued at this rate for much longer he would soon find himself locked up in St. Mungo’s.


	18. Chapter 18

**October 10 th **

**Hermione:**

Everything was set up.

Well, almost everything. But to be quite honest she didn’t really think that convincing Peeves to go and cause a spot of trouble would be all that difficult, and on the off chance that he did indeed say no, well, a handy spell that Professor Lupin had taught them during third year would end up coming in handy.

Hermione looked herself over in the mirror one last time, attempting to soothe her nerves and assure herself that she did indeed look at least a little bit presentable. She had been surprised to find that since she had lost so much weight during the last year, the dress robes that she had worn to the Yule Ball in fourth year still fit her quite well. Unfortunately there was not much that could be done for the rest of her appearance. Since she had spent so much time on planning, there was no time left to make her hair as sleek and shiny as it had been back then, and had instead opted to put it in a bun. At least that way it was still something different than normal. Her eyes flicked to the scars on her face and neck, lingering on the one given her by Bellatrix for only a moment longer than normal before rolling her eyes and heading out the door. She would never be anything special, but at least her robes were nice.

She picked up the Marauder’s Map she searched for Peeves, only to find that her luck was in. He was bouncing about one of the rooms down by the kitchen- convincing him to simply move down the hall a bit shouldn’t be much of a challenge. When the thrum of the wards on the bathroom went up, Hermione quietly left her room and snuck out the portrait.

Although she told herself that she was sneaking so much so that she wouldn’t be caught, she knew the real reason was that she didn’t want to have another encounter with Malfoy. The pair had been doing quite well avoiding one another. So well, in fact, that they no longer even discussed Head duties with one another, choosing instead to operate through other people. Was it the smartest decision? No. But the longer they could put off a confrontation, the happier they both would be.

At least she hoped they would. They occasional moments when she was caught staring at him, or vice versa, tried to convince her otherwise.

Lucky for her, there was no one in the common room, nor did she meet anyone as she walked the halls to her destination. Before she knew it, she was outside the door and could clearly hear Peeves bouncing around inside. The strange thing was that it sounded like he might be talking to someone… or singing obscene things to himself. But since Peeves never really spoke to anyone, she dismissed it and opened the door. Nothing could have prepared her for what she saw, though.

Peeves was indeed having a conversation with someone whilst he bounded around the room.

She was rooted to the spot, her jaw hung open, and a small squeak escaped her mouth, because right in front of her, was the ghost of Fred Weasley.

“Er… ‘Ello Hermione!” Fred said brightly, giving a small wave in her direction.

Hermione fainted as Peeves cackled.

OooOooOooOooOooOooOooO

Something was poking her in the ribs. Hard. That same something was also blowing in her ear quite gleefully.

“C’mon Peevsie, not so rough. You can keep blowing in her ear, but when she whips her wand at you don’t come wailing to me,” Fred said.

Fred.

_Fred._

Even as the blowing in her ear stopped and the pokes in her side were done a bit more softly, Hermione’s eyes shot open and she jumped to her feet, struggling to find the right words.

She knew she should be thrilled, she knew it. But all she could feel was anger- because how long had he been here without telling anyone? Molly still cried herself to sleep every night and the only thing George could ever talk about was how badly he felt he needed to go back to Hogwarts-wait.

All summer they had thought that George wanting to go back to Hogwarts meant that he wanted to go and sit zombie-like at the spot where Fred fell, but maybe he was being pulled by the connected of his twin? Could he really know, on some level, that Fred wasn’t gone? Had they, by refusing to allow George to go back to Hogwarts, actually been causing George even more pain? But what about when George found out that Fred was a ghost? Is a ghost brother better than no brother? Or would everything-

Peeves was blowing in her ear again.

She left her thoughts and once again paid attention to her surroundings, flapping a hand at Peeves to get him to back off. To her surprise, he did. It took Hermione a moment to realize that tears were streaming down her face.

“Why?” she finally managed to croak out. He was smart- he’d figure out what she meant.

“I don’t know how to face them like this… I’m just not ready yet… But I couldn’t just leave him, Hermione, you know that,” he told her, looking for all the world like George had been looking since Fred had died. He began pacing now, palms over his face. “What was I supposed to do? J-just go on and leave Georgie here by himself? Who would run the shop with him? Who would tell him that he needs to man up and ask Angelina to go with him? W-who would be there to let him know that everything was alright when he woke up in the middle of the night screaming? Who would tell him that he was being a prat? No one! There was no way I could do that to him. No. I go to the other side with Georgie or I do not go at all. But what happens when they see me like this? What if me being a ghost just isn’t good enough? Or worst yet, what about if me hanging around all ghostlike does nothing but hurt everybody even more? I just… I can’t…”

Hermione looked at her friend as sorrow choked her throat. What she wouldn’t give to be able to take his pain away, but she couldn’t. She couldn’t even offer him something as simple as physical comfort, but a moment later she learned that she didn’t need to. Peeves had moved next to Fred, and then did something that she had never in her life expected to see.

Peeves drew Fred into his arms and held him until his shakes stopped; looking the most solemn that she had ever seen the poltergeist.

“I’m glad that you here, Fred. We’ve all missed you so much,” Hermione whispered as Fred drew himself from the poltergeist’s grasp.

“Sorry you found out like this. I plan to tell everyone, but, I just haven’t figured out how, yet. To be honest, I kind of thought Georgie would feel me somehow and come himself, but…” he sighed. The look of disappointment on his face was enough to make her heart break all over again.

“He has. Felt you, I mean,” she told him. “All he ever talks about is how badly he needs to come back to Hogwarts. No one will let him, though, we all thought that he… well. We thought he had gone mad with grief, to be honest.”

Fred flinched a little at that before looking up at Hermione, his face a silent plea.

“I’ll write him and tell him to come here, but not to tell Molly. I doubt he’ll need more of an excuse than that… I’ll write him tonight,” she promised.

“Thank you,” the relief colored his voice as he spoke. “I just- he needs to know first. And I truly am sorry you found out like this, and you’ve no idea how wonderful it is to see you Hermione, but might I ask what in the name of Merlin you were coming into this lovely deserted classroom for? Not a secret rendezvous, I hope. Thought, I must admit, Peevsie here has been telling me some very interesting things…”

“Peeves? Peeves has been telling you things?” she asked, not quite understanding this strange relationship between ghost and poltergeist.

“Yep! See, since no one knows that I’m here, Peevsie here has been going out and about, bringing me all the juiciest gossip, and for my part I give him some of the prank ideas that George and I never got around to doing. You have, however, completely sidestepped the question I asked you,” he said. Fred raised his eyebrows and waited.

“So I’m guessing that lovely artwork on the House tables was your idea, was it?” she asked, curiosity winning out over her mission because suddenly the fact that the paint on the House tables was refusing to come off or be covered with anything made much more sense now than it had before.

“Yes, one of my more serious ideas. I have to leave hints for you, you know. For when the time comes. Now, what were you doing coming here when there is a rather lovely little celebration feast about to go on upstairs?”

“Hints? Hints for what-“

“Hermione.”

“Oh, fine, but I’m only dropping this because I’m almost out of time and I fully intend on tracking you down and demanding that you explain everything to me later. I was here because I needed a favor from Peeves,” she informed him, cross that things were being kept from her. Next thing she knew she had a face full of an upside down poltergeist.

“Me? Frizzy Head Girl wants something from little Peevsie?” he asked. There was a malicious glint in his eye that worried her a little bit, but it was now or never because she was about to be late as it was.

“Yes. I need you to go and cause a bit of trouble in the kitchen for a few minutes. Create a distraction, if you please.”

His eyes narrowed slightly. “What’s in it for me?”

Hermione was about to answer when Fred piped up behind them. “This wouldn’t have anything to do with those who attacked Dean, now would it?”

“Yes,” she nodded to Fred. Or, well, she tried to, since Peeves was still currently hovering in front of her face.

“Peeves mate, do it. You were talking about how you wanted to tickle the ickle elvsies the other day anyway.”

Before she knew it, Peeves had nodded, blown a raspberry in her face, and disappeared through the wall, leaving only her and Fred alone in the room. Hermione, unsure of what to say, offered him a small smile and went to leave, but a spot of cold on her shoulder stopped her.

She turned to see Fred smiling at her.

“Thank you,” he said.

Then he had vanished, and Hermione was sprinting so that she wouldn’t be late to dinner, casting charms on her face to hide that she had been crying as she went.

OooOooOooOooOooOooOooOooO

The lecture that was written all over Pansy, Blaise, and Dean’s faces was, thankfully, interrupted by the arrival of the Headmistress. Slowly the Great Hall grew silent, and Hermione was able to catch her breath.

She had arrived and found her seat without a second to spare, and by the looks of it all of her friends had been worried sick over her whereabouts, fearing that there had been another attack. But they would see. In the next few minutes they would know exactly what it was she had been doing, though she fully expected to be forced to explain how she did it, later.

Hermione was a huge bundle of nerves as she waited for the speech to begin. Why couldn’t they just get it over with? What was taking so long? The more she sat there and thought, the more questions popped into her mind and soon she was working herself into quite a state. So many things could have gone wrong with the potion; it was possible that it hadn’t been brewed correctly- despite the fact that she had checked it over twenty times for accuracy. So lost was she, being traumatized by her own thoughts, that it took her a moment to realize that someone was poking her hand with a spoon, trying to get her attention.

From the angle the poke was coming from, it had to have been done by the person who was sitting in front of her, but there was only ever one person who sat in front of her…

Malfoy was staring at her intently, his sharp grey eyes tinted with a modicum of concern as he looked her over. When Hermione looked at him, her breath caught a little bit. He had done nothing spectacular to his hair, or his face, but she had never though it possible for something as simple as dress robes to make such a difference in appearance. His were black velvet, somewhat similar to those he had worn during fourth year, the difference being the silver embroidery along the edges. The effect made him look softer, somehow. More like the person she had caught a glimpse of at the lake and again in their bathroom. The effect of his coloring with the black velvet of his robes it was… stunning, to say the least. For some completely irrational reason it made her wish that she had done something special with her hair or something, which made absolutely no sense whatsoever because she had no interest in Malfoy other than to keep him as far away from her person as possible.

So why did the concern in his eyes comfort her? It just didn’t make any sense.

The sound of students standing brought Hermione back to her senses, and she realized that she had been openly staring at Malfoy for the entirety of McGonagall’s speech! Her eyes widened and she shot to her feet as quickly as she could, catching Malfoy’s eye in the process. A smirk graced his lips and he had raised a single eyebrow, Hermione did her best to fight the blush that threatened to consume her.

Honestly. As if her relationship with Malfoy wasn’t complicated enough as it was, she had to go and ogle him!

“-now if you would all please raise your goblets with me in a toast to Hogwarts completion!” the Headmistress announced as she regally lifted her goblet out to them all.

The motion was mimicked by every student and faculty member in the Hall, and Hermione’s heart pounded in her chest as everybody raised their goblets to their lips and took a drink. Her nerves were coiled so tightly at this point that the anticipation of what was about to happen was physically hurting her and beads of sweat were breaking onto her forehead. Her breath came more quickly as she counted in her mind…

Three…

Two…

One…

Screams filled the Great Hall as Nicolai, Zane, Astoria, Dramera, Zacharias, Mikhail, and Clarissa clutched their chests in horror. Their faces changed, the pitches of the screams altered. Hair lengths changed, heights moved, girths shrunk and enlarged- the only thing that remained the same on the shift students were the tears streaming down their faces and the masks of abject terror claiming their shifting features.

Where before had stood four boys and three girls now stood four girls and three boys. The potion had worked, their sexes had changed, and the first sounds of laughter began to fill the Hall and broke the eerie silence that had fallen into place once the shifting started.

Hermione’s shoulders relaxed and a satisfied smile claimed her lips.

**Draco:**

He couldn’t believe it. It was genius; it was perfect, it was absolutely _mad_.

Draco looked over at Granger and saw that she no longer looked wound up so tightly that she was going to explode at any moment. No, now she was smiling and glaring at her victims, clearly enjoying their red faces, ill-fitting robes, and cries of outrage.

McGonagall was attempting to call for order, but the students were having none of it. The bastards finally grew tired of their humiliation and went running out of the Hall. They were moving clumsily, clearly not used to their new bodies and completely befuddled as to what had happened. Madame Pomfrey went running out after them, brandishing her wand at the hysterical students in order to get them to let her though. There was movement in front of him; Granger was wiggling her wand a bit in the direction of their goblets, most likely vanishing the potion they held inside them. Once she had finished with that, ignoring the incredulous and awestruck expressions being thrown her way by Pansy, Dean, Blaise and, most likely, himself.

Next thing he knew, Granger was trying to grab his attention. He looked at her, doing his best to ignore the strangeness between them, and saw her pointing her Head Girl badge and looking at him significantly.

Oh. Right. He needed to try and take control of this situation and not be laughing his ass off.

One thing he knew, though, one thing that was dangerous to admit to himself because of everything that had been happening between them, was that Hermione Granger now had his respect. Not that he didn’t respect her for everything she had endured and accomplished during the war, but that was a different kind of respect. That was the respect that you would give to a soldier. But what she had earned from him then was the type of respect that was given to the person, not the soldier.

And respecting Granger would do nothing other than get him into a whole world of trouble.

Draco wondered when he would be hearing back from the Father Weasley as he and Granger wiped the grins off of their faces and attempted to help McGonagall gain order in the Great Hall. It was no easy feat, but eventually the laughter died down and was replaced by flushed and gleeful expressions sported by nearly all of the students.

Nearly all because in the crowd he had seen one particularly pale and pained grimace, worn by Daphne Greengrass.


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And onward we go...

**October 10, After Dinner, Heads Dorm**

**Pansy:**

She was caught between laughing until her lungs explode and trying to decipher the look on Dean’s face. Was he pleased? Was he embarrassed? Was he afraid that they would seek revenge? The bloke used to be a bloody Gryffindor for Salazar’s sake! That fact alone should have been enough to assure that whatever he was feeling was written across his face. But his face betrayed nothing, and Pansy just couldn’t decide what was lurking beyond Dean’s laughter.

She spent the entire trip back to Slytherin trying to figure out this ex-Gryffindor who was far more mysterious than he had any right to be. But when Granger led everyone through the portrait and into the Head’s suite, Dean grabbed Pansy’s arm to help her inside and Pansy stopped thinking about anything at all.

Bloody bastard had managed to short-circuit her brain with something as simple as his palm on her cloaked arm. Merlin she was bloody pathetic!

 His hand did not leave her arm even as they entered the small sitting room in the Head’s Dorm and moved to take their seats. He was sitting quite close to her on the small little couch, but before Pansy was able to attempt to analyze every little detail about his posture and his intentions behind it, Hermione spoke up and her words nearly stopped Pansy’s heart from beating in her chest.

“Gin, Harry- I know you’re there I felt you walking next to me. Pop on out and have a seat where everyone can see you, please.”

Then Harry Potter and Little Red materialized out from under an Invisibility Cloak and the blood drained from Pansy’s face. Her eyes zeroed in on Potter, the person she’d tried to hand over to the Dark Lord not even 5 months ago. Her heart began to race, her breathing intensified and it took all of her strength of will not to squeak and sprint through the portrait and hide in her dorm room the way that all of her self-preservation instincts were screaming for her to. If she had been able to notice anything other than Potter she would have seen that across the room Draco was reacting in much the same way, while Blaise seemed much at ease.

She should have run the moment she saw him, but a part of her refused to give him the satisfaction. She did not regret what she had done, she had her reasons. She would not feel shame for doing what must be done in order to survive.

Pansy attempted to call some moisture into her mouth as she worked to control her breathing.

Hermione was considered a friend, was she not? She would not have allowed Potter here if he had intended to hex Pansy on sight, would she? Then again, maybe that was simply Pansy relying too much upon the Gryffindor qualities instead of the qualities that landed the bushy haired chit into Slytherin in the first place. What was the first rule that any Slytherin learned?

Trust no one with your life, other than yourself.

But even as Pansy doubted how much she could trust Hermione Granger, Potter and Little Red calmly took a seat and didn’t a glance for anyone other than Dean and Hermione. Both seemed well at their ease and gradually Pansy forced herself to calm down and acknowledge that the war was over- even her mind shouted otherwise.

It wasn’t until Dean’s hand moved down to hers that Pansy was in enough control of herself to notice the rather unique seating arrangements. While Pansy was sandwiched in between Dean and Blaise, the arrival of Potter and his girlfriend had startled Draco enough that he had jumped immediately into the only available seat that would make it possible for him not to be left sitting next to one of them. This left Draco and Hermione sitting together in the loveseat by the fire.

It was possible that one could have attributed the slight blush on their cheeks to the heat coming from the fire, but Pansy knew better. She looked forward to watching them squirm for the remainder of the night.

“Okay, done with the silence. Hermione Jean Granger you explain yourself this instant because if you do not tell me how you pulled all of that off in the next 30 seconds I swear I will hex you into Oblivion,” Little Red demanded.

“Gin-”

“No, Harry. Besides, you’ve no room to talk because you’re possibly the most tactless person I know aside from my brother. If left up to you that silence would have lasted well into the night. 20 seconds, Hermione,” Little Red said, reaching for her wand.

Pansy didn’t know whether or not to applaud the straightforward girl or to whip out her own wand and prepare for a duel.

“I must say that I agree, dear. Do tell, because for a moment there I wasn’t quite so certain that you had a plan at all,” Pansy said, adding her bit into the fray. It was partly an attempt to assert her role in Hermione life in front of Potter and Little Red, and partly as a means to calm herself down.

She didn’t notice that she had also leaned into Dean’s side as well, but he certainly did.

**Hermione:**

Well she knew that this was coming. But where to begin? Best to get the biggest bit out of the way, she supposed.

So Hermione smiled, looked at everyone in the room, and called out for Winky.

_Crack_

“Yes, Mistress?” squeaked the elf who was now bowing in front of Hermione.

A quick glance told her that the jaws of everybody in the room had completely dropped, and she could only guess what they must be thinking. She waited a moment for them to say something, but their shock didn’t seem to dissipate. She could have sworn that Malfoy had squeaked.

“Hello, Winky. Could you please do me a favor and bring up 7 hot chocolates, as well as a quill, ink, and parchment?” Hermione asked quietly. With a quick nod Winky was gone with another loud _crack_ , leaving Hermione to stares at her friends (and Malfoy) in quiet amusement.

Really, it wasn’t her fault. But Winky had wanted a new family so badly- and when Hermione had visited the kitchens she was desperate for something that would make her plan work out the way she wanted it to. Besides, she was dedicated to promoting Elvish Welfare, was she not? Winky was miserable and dying before she had bonded to Hermione. Now, the elf was cleaned up, taking care of herself, and beginning to gain some of her weight back. Such remarkable changes, in only a week.

Not to mention the fact that since she was Winky’s mistress, she would be able to be certain that at least one House Elf was being treated with respect. One step at a time.

_Crack_

“Winky is bringing Mistress what was asked for,” Winky squeaked, serving Hermione first and also passing along the other items that were requested.

“Thank you so very much, Winky,” Hermione was sure to say. Winky seemed to tremble a bit at the thanks, but went on serving the others in the room their hot chocolate instead of bursting into tears.

While Winky was occupied, Hermione scribbled out a note to be given to George.

_Dear George,_

_You were right to feel the need to come to Hogwarts, and I am so sorry that I was one of those who spoke against it. You are not crazy. Please come as quickly as you can manage._

_With Love, Hermione._

_P.S. Please leaving all punching telescopes at home, if you don’t mind._

She smiled a bit at the last line. It probably wasn’t needed, but she wanted there to be no doubt in George’s mind that it was indeed Hermione that was getting him this message. Paranoia is hard to get rid of after a war.

“Is there being anything else needed of Winky, Mistress?”

“Yes, but just one more thing,” she said kindly. “I need you to get this message to its recipient as quickly as possible, please. And then you may go ahead and do as you please with the rest of the Hogwarts elves.”

“Of course, Mistress,” Winky squeaked.

This time when the young elf left, the shock had worn off enough for people to react to the news.

“You’ve got to be bloody joking,” Harry breathed, disbelief flooding his face.

“Forgive me if I’m wrong darling, but isn’t that against your moral code or something?” Pansy asked.

Malfoy squeaked again, although that time he also managed to give a jerk of the head. Ginny and Dean, however, she could see were putting the pieces together in their minds.

“Spew! That’s what it was called!” was the delightful contribution of Blaise. An old flame of irritation sparked inside Hermione, and she couldn’t help but correct him much in the same way that she had corrected Ron and Harry what seemed like forever ago.

“Actually, it was the Society for the Protection of Elvish Welfare or S. P. E. W., not _spew_.”

“’Mione, not important,” Harry sighed. His hands rubbed up against his eyes while Ginny sat giggling next to him, apparently overcome by her best friend’s antics.

Dean cleared his throat before leaning forward and turning to face her. “If you needed a House Elf, why didn’t you just borrow Harry’s? Or was that what you were trying to do last week in the library?”

Huh?

“How did you know that I was even talking to Harry in the library?” she asked.

“I was sitting at one of the tables with Seamus, catching him up on things,” Dean explained. The blush that rose up to his cheeks left no doubt in Hermione’s mind as to which topic had been discussed at that table and what the female sitting between he and Blaise. “We caught the tail end of the conversation the two of you were having.”

“Yes, well, Kreacher probably wouldn’t have cooperated with me, so I, erm… well, I allowed Winky to bond herself to me. And she’s already so much happier and healthier than she used to be…” Hermione tapered off slowly, knowing what argument was going to be made against her but not sure of which direction it would come from.

Luckily for her, Ginny cast a silencing charm on Blaise before he could vocalize his point and no one else felt like raising a fuss over Hermione’s rather hypocritical actions.

“But won’t the other House Elves know that it was Winky who put the potion in their goblets? You’ll be caught out…” Dean asked.

“That would be why I got Peeves to go and terrorize the House Elves. There was so much commotion that none of them will have noticed Winky slipping in the potion.”

Silence met her words.

“You… you _got_ Peeves to do you a favor?!” Harry exclaimed.

“Yes.”

“But… that’s not possible. Believe me, I’ve tried!” Ginny spluttered, looking over at Hermione with a new touch of respect in her gaze.

“I’ve no doubt that he’ll make me regret it at some point, but for the moment I think whatever he’ll get me back with is worth it, don’t you think?” she lied. Eventually she could reveal how she actually got Peeves to cooperate with her, but that couldn’t happen until Fred had revealed himself to his family.

“How permanent is the potion? And how’d you come up with that, anyway?” Harry asked.

“From Luna and-”

“What does it matter how long it lasts?” Blaise growled, glaring a bit at Harry. “They deserved it and much worse for what they did.”

No one quite knew how to respond to that, torn between their (slightly skewed) morals and their loyalty to Dean. To everyone’s surprise, it was Dean who answered.

“They’re only kids, Blaise,” Dean said. His eyes were downcast and his voice was heavy, but there was a certainty in his words that none could counter. “Sixth year, some not even that.”

Hermione tensed. She wasn’t sure how she knew what was coming, but her heart stopped as she looked over at Malfoy. As everyone except for Dean looked over at Malfoy, waiting.

“A lot of damage can be done by someone who is ‘just a sixth year’. It doesn’t change anything. A choice is a choice- good or bad,” Malfoy said. His eyes were closed, and Hermione had to fight back the urge to reach and brush against his clenched fists. She could picture him reliving every choice he ever made, in that moment. To what end she would never know.

“You were just a child too, Draco,” Pansy whispered.

As much as she wanted to nod, Hermione willed herself not to. She doubted. What she doubted, not even she knew, but the doubt was there nonetheless.

“No he wasn’t.”

Harry’s voice, loud and clear, rang out in the silent room. Hermione could feel Malfoy tense as everyone in the room took a breath and braced themselves- but none had been braced enough for the words that followed.

“None of us were ever really children, were we?” Harry continued, his gaze flickering back and forth between Pansy and Malfoy. “Not one of us.”

“What are you going on about, Potter?” Draco demanded with his eyes hard and blazing.

“Think on it. Think on the choices we were all forced to make, and what ages we were when we made them,” Ginny murmured.

It was true. At 11 Hermione had made choices that most adults were usually spared. Those choices continued and got harder, some ways, as she got older. Could that really be considered a childhood? Could someone who has faced horrors truly be considered to still be a child?

“Choices?” Harry scoffed. “What choice? Not everyone had choices, Dean. You and Hermione- yes, you had choices to make. No one is denying that, or denying their difficulty or what those choices did to you. But I know for a fact that at least four, possibly five, of us in this room didn’t have any choices. Our choices were made long before we were born.”

Pansy and Malfoy were gaping at Harry while the rest of them nodded. It was true. Because no one could actually call the choice between living and dying a choice, many of them hadn’t had any choices at all. How was that fair? How was any of it fair, or right? None of it was. And where did it leave them? They did not have a childhood, because they had all been forced to act as adults. But what was to happen to them now?

“We’re lost. All of us,” she stated quietly.

Faces turned to her in confusion.

“As children we were forced to act as adults, to commit acts the likes of which most adults aren’t even capable of handling. But we could, because it was all we knew, really. But where does that leave us now? We cannot be children, yet here we are where our childhood was supposed to take place. We were forced to grow up so quickly that we missed out on so much… and now that everything is over, how do we go on? We were raised by a war,” she explained. “But now the war is done and none of us know how to live. We’re lost.”

“What do you mean we don’t know how to live?” Blaise asked.

“We know how to survive, yes. But how do we live?” Hermione asked, hoping that she was making some kind of sense.

“Not all of us even know how to survive, ‘Mione. You took care of that bit for me,” Harry smiled.

Hermione offered him a faint, ghost of a smile in return. “Yes, well, you had your mind on other things. Somebody had to keep you breathing.”

Harry tilted his head in acknowledgement as Ginny curled up closer to him. Hermione couldn’t blame them- reliving the past was enough to make anyone search out comfort in the cold of the dungeons. It was this rationalization that quieted her subconscious when she noticed that she and Malfoy were sitting so close together at this point that they were touching, and fire blazed inside where their bodies met. She knew that he must have noticed, but while she didn’t move away, neither did he.

Shadows care not about the source of the light that chases them away. Only that it is there.

“We do the same thing that we’ve been doing, don’t we? The only thing we know how to do, really,” Malfoy said in answer to Hermione’s earlier question. Before anyone could ask what exactly he meant, Pansy answered for them.

“We do what we must,” she whispered. “Whatever it takes.”

Nods filled the silence, and as they all sat there thinking, the mugs of hot chocolate refilled themselves and startled the somber group.

“What shall we toast to?” Ginny asked, raising her mug slightly into the air.

“Revenge?”

“Life?”

“Survival?”

“To doing what we must,” said Harry.

His toast was not contested and each member of the small group raised their mug to one another and drank, willing the hot chocolate to chase away the demons of the past. Nothing was said, after that. Each was lost in their own thoughts, reliving battles and wondering what would have happened if they had made a different choice somewhere along the road- whether or not a choice had been available to them.

Blaise and Dean were the first to leave, nodding slowly to everyone in the room before disappearing out of the portrait. Nothing strange about that, what with the heavy conversation still lingering in the air. But when Harry stood to leave, all who remained were surprised to see that Pansy stood up and stopped him.

“I’m not sorry. Or ashamed,” she told him, emotion thick in her voice.

Harry turned, smiled at Pansy, and held out his hand for her to shake. And when she grasped it, he told her that she had absolutely nothing to be ashamed of.

“It’s just life, in the end. We all do what we have to do and there is no shame in that,” he said before leaving, not even bothering to disillusion himself. Pansy followed and escorted him safely through the common room.

Hermione, Malfoy, and Ginny all stood and began to make their way up the stairs to get some sleep, hopefully the kind that didn’t end in screams.

“Some life, yeah?” Hermione heard herself ask aloud.

“Yeah. Some life,” Ginny answered when she reached the top of the staircase and disappeared into Hermione’s room. About to follow, something made Hermione pause and turn to look at Malfoy before he entered into his own room.

He had paused too, and when he turned a small smile graced his face. “Goodnight, Granger.”

“Goodnight, Malfoy,” she whispered before she offered a sad little smile of her own.

That night Hermione had to search long and hard in order to find the new sense of peace that washed through her. Just when she thought that she might have figured it out Hermione decided that, like the shadows, she didn’t care about the source-only that it existed.

 

 

 

 

 


	20. Chapter 20

**October 11, Head’s Dorm**

**Draco:**

He woke up panting, his throat burning and eyes aching. Sweat clung to his clothes and the nightmares slowly drifted away from him, as if they were holding on to him for as long as they possibly could before allowing his desperate escape. Would that they could leave behind some idea of just what his nightmare had been, but no. That would be far too simple and nothing in Draco’s life was allowed to be simple, it seemed.

Eager to wash away the sense of foreboding that still clung to him, Draco pulled himself from his bed and went through the standard procedures for a Saturday morning: shower, dress, and groan. It wasn’t until he reached the ‘groaning’ part of the procedure that he realized his throat was still burning from held back screams- nothing a warm cup of tea couldn’t fix. Since calling for a house elf would have required speaking, and that was something which Draco wanted nothing to do with at the moment, he decided to finally make use of the small kitchenette his living quarters were blessed with.

Barefoot and still a bit groggy he left his room and made it about halfway down the stairs before he noticed the ghost that was pacing and muttering in his living room.

Draco reached up and rubbed his eyes, briefly wondering whether he’d fallen back asleep and was dreaming all of this, before continuing his journey for a cup of tea.

And that’s when he realized that the ghost was that of Fred Weasley.

He decided that denial was going to be his very best friend until he could get back up into his room with a steaming bit of tea and possibly be able to make sense of what was going on. There had been no whispers anywhere of there being a new ghost in the castle or outside of it, and he knew for a fact that the Weasley’s couldn’t possibly know of this… but that was not the point. The point was not to be caught in a conversation with a ghost, one who despised him, while he was unable to speak. His only choice was to edge around the room quietly and hope that he could slip through the door before he was noticed. He was almost there but then he heard the muttering stop and when Draco looked up it was to find a terror stricken ghost in his face, demanding his opinion.

“Well? You have opinions on everything, don’t you? Mouth always going off about one thing or another, stupid prat, why don’t you use it for good this time and help out a wee little ghostie?” Fred demanded. There was a slightly manic glint in his eyes when he accosted Draco, floating just inches away from his face.

Draco’s mouth opened and closed, but no sound escaped it. Not only did he not have the slightest clue what the hell the ghost was talking about, but his throat was still so raw that he wouldn’t be able to speak anyway. In efforts to try to communicate in some form, Draco jerked his head to the side a bit in a shocked grimace and emitted a sort of pained squeak.

This beacon of eloquence seemed to be enough of an acknowledgement, though, because it sent Fred off into a frenzied rant that nearly made his head spin.

“I mean what could I possibly have been thinking? There is no way I could have honestly believed this to be a good idea… not that it was my idea to die in the first place, or that I honestly had much a thought to coming back again it was mostly a twin-like bonding thing, but how did I feel it would be a grand idea, exactly? Either I live out the rest of my existence hiding from any redhead I see on the off chance that they might recognize me as family, or I show myself to them and not only do I have to explain why it was I hid in the first place but I’ll be a constant reminder of the fact that I am dead! They’ll never move on from it, it would kill my mother- how much of their healing would I undo by showing myself? How much worse will I make it for everyone?!”

Draco had no idea of what he was supposed to do in this situation. The only thing he knew was that that morning tea was most likely going to be nothing more than a delirium dream. With a wave of his wand he accio’d a foul tasting vial of potion that would end up doing the same job as several cups of tea and tossed it back, trying to figure out exactly what the ghost needed from him all the while.

“Not that any of that actually matters anymore, of course. No, because I had to go and be a world-class idiot and show myself to Hermione Granger accidently-on-purpose and basically make it so that _she_ has to do the hard decision making because I am a complete and total _coward_. Which if you think about it doesn’t really make much of any sense at all because my accidently-on-purpose showing myself to Hermione actually _is_ me making the decision, because if I truly was decisive then I would have still been hiding away in the castle… but is my hiding this whole time been my decision or an act out cowardice or- urgh! I just don’t know anymore but Georgie is almost here, I can feel him, and what am I supposed to say when he actually gets here?! ‘OH hello there, George! Fancy seeing you here, especially when I’m supposed to be _dead_ and _nonexistent_ and yes okay I was hiding from the family and possibly causing you much worse grief that you might not have really needed to go through because I’m still here, kind of, and thus you have someone around to make up for your horrid sense of humor’?! No! There is nothing I can say to fix this, and nothing I can do, and I just… I just… All I really want to do right now is _hit_ something but I’m _dead_ so my bloody fist just goes straight through everything!”

Draco was at a loss for what to do. He may have basically despised Fred Weasley while they were living, but even before the little ‘transformation’ he was going through, Draco wasn’t heartless. He honestly wanted to help the poor sod. But what was he supposed to say? Sorry that your death is worse than your life? But as Fred reached the end of his brokenhearted rant, Draco remembered that there actually _was_ something that he could do. He may not have the emotional range to handle this, but at least his hand wouldn’t go through whatever hit it.

“Well, uhm, just use mine then.”

Fred stopped in his tracks and stared at Draco with large eyes for what felt like hours- he was definitely squirming under the intense scrutiny.

“ _What?_ ” Fred squawked.

“You did know that you can do that, right? Y-you just, step inside me and stay there. Use my limbs as your own…” Draco stated lamely. Fred was looking at him as if he had gone starkers. Which couldn’t really blame him but there was only so long before Draco’s common sense and horrid personality caught up with him, this opportunity wouldn’t last forever. “Well, you said you wanted to hit something. So… do it.”

If it was even possible, Fred’s ghostly eyes widened even more before he was suddenly flying at Draco’s face- it took everything Draco had not to fight the invasion. Not to mention the cold chill that came along with the possession.

And then, his body was moving without Draco telling it to and he had to focus on all of the lessons that his thrice-cursed aunt had taught him a few summers ago, and allowed his consciousness to drip from the control seat. This way, he didn’t have to watch himself running around destroying things or feel the pain that came from it; he didn’t even have to run the risk of fighting for the control of his body. It was Fred’s for the taking.

If anyone had told him that at any point in his life he would be allowing the ghost of a Weasley full control over his own person, he would have set them up with the Lovegood’s and Obliviated the thought from his own mind to avoid the horror it brought.

He blamed Granger.

“Oi! Snap out of it! He’s here he’s here he’s here I can feel him IN THE BLOODY CASTLE MALFOY! So I need you to wake the bloody fuck up!”

Draco blinked. Apparently abandoning your consciousness was a bit more disorienting in practice than it was in theory- either way it was creepy as hell and there was no sodding way that he was going to do it again anytime soon.

Fred was having a nervous breakdown right before his eyes and if he had been human Draco would have hexed him or slapped him just to keep the bloke from moving.

“Relax, alright? Even if he is in the castle, he can’t get down here. In case you hadn’t noticed you’re in the Slytherin dormitories? You’ll be able to go to him, he’s not just going to pop up out of the blue,” Draco explained in a tone of voice that was supposed to be comforting, but he was worried that it had come out as a bored drawl instead. He wasn’t expecting the ghost to start laughing in his face.

“Malfoy, my brother and I have made our way into Slytherin House exactly 12 times over the years- he will have no problem whatsoever making it here.”

“Is there _anyone_ in Gryffindor who hasn’t come down here?! Anyone at all?!” Draco exclaimed, a small rage flowing through his veins.

“Well, if you had asked me a year ago I would’ve said Hermione, but that’s been shot all to hell now, hasn’t it?”

Draco really wanted to hit the bloody ghost. The ghost who, now that the momentary distraction had dissipated, was once again pacing about the room muttering the same phrase over and over again.

“What do I say, what do I say, what do I say, what do I say-“

“Fred.”

“Hngmph?”

“He’s your twin, what makes you think that you’ll actually _have_ to say something?”

The ghost stopped for a moment, pondering the question. Just then there was a sharp rap on the portrait and Pansy’s voice was floating through.

“Erm, Draco? Hermione? I’m not entirely sure what’s going on, but there is an irate Weasley demanding to get into your rooms… Which is really quite odd because before I mentioned what this portrait led to he didn’t have a clue- all he told me was that he had to get in. He says he isn’t here to kill you, for some reason I believe him, and I’d love to let the lad in but since _someone_ hasn’t given me his password I can’t!”

Fred squawked and ran to hide inside the kitchen- Draco fought the urge to slam his head against the wall. How had he gotten mixed up in this? All he had wanted was a cup of tea…

Draco marched over to the portrait, threw it open, and grabbed the other Weasley by the front of his cloak dragged him inside and closed the portrait again saying:

“Hello there Pansy thanks for the delivery got to go talk to you later bye!”

The look on her face had been brilliant, he thought, as he leaned up against the frame to catch his breath. When Draco looked up he saw that George was marching directly into the kitchen with a determined look upon his face. This time it was Draco who did the squawking as he raced to drag the other man back into the sitting room and force him onto the couch.

“Sorry, kitchen’s off limits.”

George glared at him. “I need in that kitchen, Malfoy. I swear to Merlin if you try to keep me out I’ll-“

The threat ended abruptly, and Draco thought he might had an idea as to why- the expression on George’s face confirmed it. Draco moved to get out of the way so that the brothers would be able to reunite in peace. He wasn’t sure if he was supposed to leave the room, though, because there was something inside him practically ordering him to stay.

Draco had never experienced a more complete silence than the one that filled that room. Tears streamed down both of the twins faces, though while one twins’ face was full of terror and panic the other was a mixture of joy/horror/and above all else- pain.

If anyone had ever asked him about it, Draco would have lied, but at the expression on George’s face Draco’s eyes filled with moisture and a drop escaped down his cheek. It was ridiculous, he thought, because he had hated these people. Had once yearned to make them break, to make their lives a living hell. But now that he was here watching, seeing their own hell playing out before them, the only thing Draco wanted to do was to try and make things better. Because the pain on those faces?  No one deserved that.

For a moment, Draco thought about an entire clan of Weasley’s, all wearing the same look as George was wearing now. And in the next second Draco imagined that it was his own family in the place of the Weasley’s- that the look of pain was being worn by his own mum. This image caused a stroke of inspiration inside Draco and he ran up to his room.

He dug around in his chest for the small box that he had prepared before he came back to school- he had also been replenishing the contents as they expired during the year- and grabbed every vial he had and stuffing all but one inside the pockets of his robes.

When he came back downstairs, he could hear the conversation that the twins were having.

“I’d thought you’d left me,” George had sobbed. He was reaching out as if to try and touch his brother, who was mirroring the action.

“Don’t be stupid Georgie; I’d never leave you… I- just couldn’t. And I’m… I’m so sorry that I- that I waited this long to tell you I’m here but I just- I was scared and I just.. Georgie I-“

“Shuttup Freddie, I knew you weren’t gone. I knew. You don’t have to explain, I’m just- I’m glad you’re back. That you’re here, even though you’re not, and I. I love you Freddie but don’t you _ever_ scare me like that again!”

The twins moved forward, as if they had wanted to hug, and that was when Draco lunged forward to rip out a few of George Weasley’s hairs. While they cursed, he moved out of George’s reach, dropped the hairs into the vial, and tossed it back- grimacing at the taste. Then he felt his body distorting and heard the twin’s gasp- Fred at least must have realized what he was doing. Draco held his hands up and spoke in a voice that was not his own.

“I’ve plenty of vials in my pockets- enough to give you a full day, at least. What do you say? You up for it?”

In answer, Fred flew directly towards him (almost as if he was afraid that Draco would change his mind) and the last thing Draco acknowledged before he shut off his consciousness was his body running forward and embracing someone else’s in a fierce hug.


	21. Chapter 21

**Hermione, Walking the Corridors, Morning:**

Ginny had been gone when Hermione woke up that morning, and no noise had been coming from Draco’s room.  And so Hermione was left to spend another Saturday cooped up in the Slytherin dorms all on her own.

She knew that she really ought to be marching straight up to the office of the Headmistress to assist in trying to figure out and capture those who forced several Hogwarts students to have a sudden change of sex, but Hermione couldn’t help the longing that built in her heart as she meandered through the crooked halls of the school.

The memories were far away and long passed, but if she reached back behind all of the sleepless nights and thoughts of death and destruction, Hermione could find the memories of the warmth shared by three friends as they sat in squashy red armchairs and basked in the warmth from the fireplace. Memories filled with the joy and laughter that would come with a Saturday spent in Gryffindor Tower. If she thought hard enough she could even recall the arguments held between Harry and Ron over Quidditch as she attempted to coax them into working on their assignments.

Lost in her memories, Hermione found herself walking through the corridors until she found herself placed in front of the familiar yet foreign space of wall that would normally lead her onward to her second favorite place in the castle. The blank wall mocked her, it seemed. It was as if the absence of the Fat Lady simply screamed out about how much she no longer belonged in that place of happiness and warmth.

It saddened her that although her friends had been content to join her down in Slytherin, none had thought to invite her to the place she missed the most.

“You won’t even show up for me anymore, will you?” Hermione asked the wall. While she originally approved of the extra security measures taken to keep anyone who was not a House member from entering the Houses depths without express permission, now they seemed almost cruel. When the wall gave no answer but silence, she allowed her shoulders to droop and began to turn away.

“Wait!”

Hermione turned, and when she did it was none other than a sympathetic looking Fat Lady hanging upon the wall.

“Dear… tell me. What is it that has brought you up here? Is everything alright?” the Fat Lady asked her.

What a question to ask! Of course something was wrong; she was stuck in the _wrong house_! Nothing was alright anymore. Fred shouldn’t be dead, she shouldn’t have a house elf, Ron shouldn’t be treating her as if she had betrayed him… but what was it that had brought her up to Gryffindor? After a moments musing, Hermione found the answer she’d been searching for- though it broke her heart to know it.

“I just… I want to come home…” she whispered, afraid that should she speak any louder her voice would break. Hermione closed her eyes to fight off the wave of tears threatening to fall, only to open them up as soon as she heard what sounded like a portrait swinging open. A gasped escaped her lips when she saw that that was exactly what had happened.

The Fat Lady smiled down upon her and gave her a quick wink and said, “For old time’s sake dear, go on.”

Without sparing the time to stammer out a startled thank you, Hermione raced through the portrait hole just as fast as her legs could take her. She didn’t stop to think what the reaction of others would be in regards to her sudden appearance but at that point she truly didn’t give a damn. And when she skidded to the wonderful scarlet landscape, it was Harry’s voice that first registered.

“ _Hermione?!_ ”

She didn’t even have time to acknowledge his exclamation before he tackled her into a hug, laughing.

She was home.

**Draco, Noon, The Burrow:**

“You do realize that when I volunteered myself for this, I had meant that you make sure I wasn’t actually conscious for any of it? That I had meant to be hiding in a corner of my own mind?”

Draco’s palms were sweating. He was standing in front of a house full of redheaded heathens that wanted to dismember him on sight, and it was his own bloody fault that he was there in the first place.

“Nonsense Malfoy, I couldn’t just walk in there all suddenly alive, now could I? Think of the ruckus that would cause,” Fred stated from somewhere behind his left shoulder. The fact that the remark had none of the redhead’s normal bounce was a testament to how nervous he was to be seeing his family.

“Right, because the sight of a Malfoy on their doorstep won’t cause anything of a ruckus. Honestly, what is to keep that mother of yours from murdering me like she did my aunt the moment she sets her eyes on me?” He asked as he flexed his wand arm. “Not to say that she didn’t deserve it, mind you. But I think I have every right to be a bit anxious about whether not she’s truly as hex-happy as I think she is.”

“Relax, Drakey,” George said as he clapped him on the shoulder. “You survived the War with your own skin intact, didn’t you?”

“Excellent! Then on the off chance that mum goes off her rocker and tries to AK you on sight, you should have no problem fending her off!”

Draco snorted. There was not a doubt in his mind that if Molly Weasley wanted him dead he didn’t stand a chance in hell at keeping that from happening. In fact, he was quite certain that had there been slightly different circumstances the frumpy little witch could have defeated the Dark Lord with nothing more than her own righteous indignation. This did not keep his hand from tightening on his wand, however.

“Alright there Peeves Jr.,” Draco began as George rapped on the front door of his own home. “What exactly are you going to do? Float inside and give them all the shock of their lives?”

“Nope! I’ll be hiding in the wall for a bit. Good luck!”

In an instant the ghost was out of sight and the front door was opening to reveal a pole-axed Molly Weasley demanding an explanation. An explanation that George seemed entirely willing to leave up to Draco, it seemed. With a heart sigh and a thundering heart, Draco set out to explain just what in the blazes was going on, but first Draco whispered off one last retort to the ghost hiding within the walls of his childhood home.

“ _Coward.”_

He may have even heard the soft chuckle that followed his comment, but unfortunately that was when Molly Weasley noticed her odd little clock and was then screaming and demanding to know why it was that Fred’s name was now pointed at ‘Home’.

“Forgot about the bloody clock…” George cursed.

Draco had every intention of soldiering on and making an attempt to explain the situation to the mother standing before him, but he wasn’t given the chance. When before it was just the three of them in that hall, that number had now increased in size as every Weasley, with the exception of the oldest two, had suddenly appeared around them.

The look on Weaselby’s face promised murder, and when he noticed said Weasel King reaching for his wand, Draco had had enough. He was here to do these people a _favor_ and this was how he was treated? No _thank_ you. Malfoy’s do not do favors lightly, and there was not a chance in hell that he was going to stand for this.

“For Merlin’s sake Fred, just come out of the bloody wall and say hello to your mother!” Draco shouted over the yelling voices of the Weasley’s. When George stared at him during the following silence, Draco merely shrugged and said, “I told you I had planned on being hidden away in my own sub-conscious for this part.”

His job now done, Draco used the distraction that Fred presented him by leaving his place of refuge to swallow his second vial of Polyjuice that morning. He set his body down in one of the old chairs in the sitting room before allowing his mind to drip away.

He was _not_ going to put up with this shit if he didn’t have to.

All he had wanted was a cup of tea.

**Hermione, Noon, Gryffindor Common Room:**

 She was sitting in what used to be her regular seat, steadfastly ignoring the strangeness that was the interaction between Daphne and Neville happening in the spot that used to be occupied by Ron. Theo was a near-constant flow of chatter that kept resulting in Hermione laughing so hard she felt she was going to pass out.

It was the most fun she’d had since before this whole mess had started.

“So where did Ginny go?” Hermione asked Harry, who was lounging in his chair, steadfastly ignoring the near-blank piece of parchment that was supposed to be his essay sitting next to him.

“She went to the Burrow; I think George called them all over for something. He said he had good news, but I can’t imagine what would be going on,” Harry answered, completely nonchalant.

Hermione couldn’t help the small gasp that escaped as her mouth formed a perfect ‘oh’. She quickly changed expressions so that she wouldn’t give anything away, but she could tell that she hadn’t been quick enough when suddenly all of the attention was on her and the group of students around her had gone silent. It was time to change the subject, and quickly.

“So, erm, Harry- you were very… what would the word be… _mature_ about everything last night. Surprisingly so, actually. Is there any particular reasoning behind that or did you simply channel the mind of someone who has the emotional maturity of someone older than five years old for a moment?”

Alright so it wasn’t her best diversion, but it had done the job well enough at least. All she had to do was keep Harry distracted long enough for Ginny to get back and share the news herself.

“I’m tired of fighting, Hermione. To be honest I just don’t _care_ about the things everyone did anymore. It just doesn’t really seem to matter. The war is over, the deed is done, I just want to move past it,” he shrugged. “Hard to do that if you don’t forgive everyone. Besides, who’s to say that we wouldn’t have done the same thing, if we were in their shoes?”

Hermione raised an eyebrow. “You mean to tell me that you’re forgiving Malfoy for everything? _Draco Malfoy_?”

“Why does that seem so strange? I mean, you’ve obviously forgiven him.” Harry countered, causing Hermione to splutter.

“I most certainly have _not_ forgiven him!”

It was Harry’s turn to raise an eyebrow, although his was accompanied by a smirk that just screamed trouble. “Oh? Would you care to explain to me why it was that the two of you were sitting so close together last night then?”

Hermione snapped her mouth shut in shock. Since when did Harry notice things like that? He was normally so oblivious… Ginny. That was the only explanation that made any type of sense at all. Of _course_ she would pick up on the fact that she and Malfoy were touching last night.

“It didn’t _mean_ anything… it’s just freezing in that bloody dungeon!”

Harry’s eyes narrowed slightly in challenge.

“You were sitting in the seat by the fire, Hermione. Try again.”

She bit her lips and frantically began to search for an answer that she didn’t have. Why hadn’t she moved away once she had noticed the contact? Better yet, why hadn’t he?

“I don’t… things are complicated, Harry. After the night in the bathroom… I don’t quite know where we stand with each other anymore. Things have gone absolutely mad,” she said weakly, staring down into her lap, not noticing the look shared between Daphne and Theo at her response. She most certainly wasn’t expecting the excited bark that exploded from Harry.

“Excellent! Things have started to get right boring in Gryffindor since Daphne insists on doing everything herself. Now, tell me everything and for the love of Merlin don’t leave anything out. I feel like if I haven’t got a problem to solve I’m going to go insane.”

Harry looked at her expectantly and Hermione immediately jumped up and began firing every charm and counter-charm she knew at Harry to try and figure out who this stranger was and just what in the bloody hell they had done with her best friend.

**Draco, 3pm, the Burrow:**

It felt as if no time had passed at all as he drifted within the confines of his own mind. He would never tell anyone else, but he loved the feeling of hiding within himself. Somehow it felt freeing, not to have to think about anything or deal with any problems, all he had to do was drift away into the fog and he felt light as air. But as he drifted along, he could hear a soft voice calling out, willing him to follow it back to the world…

“Draco? Draco dear? Fred are you sure he’s alright? Somehow I feel this can’t be normal...”

“No worries, Mum. He’s done this past few times, must be quiet a trip to come back into your own head.”

“Normal? Mum how many people have you met that can give control of their body to a ghost? This whole situation isn’t exactly normal.”

“Yes, I am aware of that George, but- oh look! I think he’s come back to us!”

Draco came back into his own mind and was quite pleased to find that his body was back to its usual shape, thought when he opened his eyes to find the very red and very tear-stained face of Molly Weasley within only a few inches of his own it took every ounce of his self-control not to squawk and fly backwards.

“Hello dear, are you feeling alright?” she asked him kindly. This treatment was so different from what he had experienced upon first reaching the home that on instinct his eyes darted about searching for any sign of a trap. All he saw were tearstained faces looking on with interest.

Lovely. He was an exhibit now.

“Yes, I’m alright. It’s all just a bit disorienting,” Draco answered, trying to figure out if there was a polite way to say that he feared for his life and would like to flee now.

There wasn’t.

“I don’t doubt that, young man. A gift like yours it a hard one to come by! However did you learn it?”

“It was… necessary,” Draco replied, willing himself not to revisit the nights trapped in a room with his Aunt as she prepared him to be a vessel for the Dark Lord should he ever need one. The memories weren’t pleasant ones.

The Mother Weasley seemed to detect that the subject wasn’t one he favored and quickly worked to change gears.

“Draco I… I can’t thank you enough for what you have done for my family today. For giving us one last day with our Freddie… well not a last day, but with him in a corporeal form, you know,” Molly was started to tear up again, though it was clear that she was fighting it. “I thank you from the bottom of my heart, for this.”

Draco blinked his confusion and did a quick head-count of those in the room.

“Forgive me if I’m mistaken, but aren’t there more of you?” he asked, positive that there must be at least a few of the Weasley children missing at the moment.

“Well, yes,” she answered, and this time it was her turn to be confused. “Bill and Charlie weren’t able to make it on such short notice, but what has that to do with anything?”

Draco spoke very slowly, as if speaking to one who was a bit dim, “Well, wouldn’t they like the chance to see their brother in corporeal form?”

Everyone in the room seemed to take a step back in surprise, and Molly’s eyes were positively gleaming now. The look in her eyes almost seemed to melt something inside of him, and Draco was struck by such a sudden urge to want to do anything that might possibly keep that joy there, if only for a moment longer. He was given an idea so out of character for him, but one that he could only attribute to the insanity brought about by the look in the Weasley Mother’s eyes.

“Yes, I would imagine they might…” she said softly, almost unsure of whether or not she could dare to let herself hope.

“Precisely. Not to mention I’m sure I can manage to give the other one his twin on their birthday… My mum and I only ever celebrate Christmas Eve so I ought to be able to lend myself on Christmas as well-“

His offer was cut off because he suddenly had an armful of a sobbing Mrs. Weasley, who was hugging him as if her life depended on it. If ever asked, Draco would deny it until his very last breath, but he hugged her back a bit as well.  When he was finally released from her arms she was sobbing too hysterically to say much of anything, but her thanks was written all over her face as she stared at him.

Unable to handle the power of that stare for very long, Draco looked around to see more tears and flabbergasted expressions on each of the family’s faces. The twins were apparently knocked speechless, but the youngest son wasn’t. And though it was clear that he was as happy about the offer as the rest of his family, that didn’t stop him from walking right up to Draco and demanding an answer.

“Why the hell are you doing this Malfoy?”

“Ron-“Little Red tried to cut in, but her brother brushed her off.

“No! I want to know just why the hell he is doing this. Is it guilt? Is it a trick? What?”

Draco wanted to be furious about the question. Wanted to walk straight up to the idiotic Weasel-King and knock that expression off of his face, but for some reason his gaze was drawn to that of Molly who was looking back at Draco with this _look_ , one that couldn’t be explained. And instead of curses and anger, Draco was instead left with an answer.

He looked straight and Ron and said, “Because I have a Mum, too.”

There was a moment of silence after that, because apparently not even Weaselby could find an argument with that one. Unable to stand being stared at any longer, Draco excused himself and fled to the kitchen to try and catch his breath.

Once in there he began pacing, muttering to himself about how he must have gone stark raving mad and bemoaning the dangers of going to make your own tea in the morning- up until he noticed that he had been followed in by the Father Weasley, who was now staring at him with an bewildered expression.

The man held out a cup of tea to Draco, who had to keep from snarking about how his journey for a simple cuppa was now complete, and asked something that had appeared to have been bothering him.

“I’ll accept your answer about why you’re doing what you are for my son, but why is it that you chose me?” he asked, taking a sip from his mug.

Mirroring the gesture, Draco took a drink of his own before giving his reply.

“You were the only person I was absolutely positive wasn’t being kept safe in my father’s pocket. By some twist of fate, you’ve become the only person in the Ministry I knew I could trust.”

Arthur blinked his surprise before taking it in stride and addressing the issue at hand.

“After reading the contents of the letter your father sent you I began a thorough investigation into his activities at Azkaban. Though the official records state that he has done nothing wrong, I’ve learned that he has indeed been corresponding with those who are not family, though I’ve not yet learned their identities. I believe…” he hesitated.

“Yes?” Draco prodded, accepting that his father was indeed a total bastard and expecting to hear of a plot from his father to off his mother. There was no longer anything that he wouldn’t believe the man capable of.

“I believe he is somehow connected to the recent attacks of a very hostile Wizarding group, one whose agenda has not yet been made entirely clear. But the dates of his correspondence with others match up with the dates of the attacks. I’m hoping to soon find out whether the owls are before or after the attacks, but it will be a bit longer before I learn that, I believe.”

“Attacks? There have been attacks? What-“

“You’ll be learning of them soon, the Ministry has decided that it is no longer wise to try and keep them under wraps. Each attack, though, has been against those who participated in the War,” Arthur explained, rubbing his face as he did so.

Draco gulped.

“Which side were they on?”

Molly chose this moment to shout that Ron and Ginny were about to floo back to Hogwarts and for Arthur to come and say goodbye. But before he left, the older man turned and gave a rather upsetting answer.

“Both.”

**Hermione, Heads Dorm, Night:**

As the story Ginny told her of the day’s events rang through her head, Hermione marched off in search of one Draco Malfoy. Her talk with Harry had amounted to nothing other than pointless musing and teasing, leaving her only more frustrated at the stupid ferret. For some reason knowing what it was Malfoy was doing for the Weasley’s made her absolutely _furious_ with the blond, and she was on a mission to give him a piece of her mind.

She found him in their kitchenette enjoying a cup of tea far more than was necessary, and this only fueled her ire.

“Draco Malfoy!” she yelled, pleased to see him jump about a foot in the air. The problem only occurred when he turned to face her.

Upon seeing him all of her unreasonable rage with him evaporated on the spot, leaving her with only one thing to say.

“Thank you,” she whispered, before fleeing to her room and slamming the door to do homework, leaving a pole axed Draco Malfoy to ponder the question eventually asked by every male.

What the bloody fuck was wrong with women?


	22. Chapter 22

**October 13 th**

**Great Hall, Morning, Pansy:**

Things could maybe have been settling into a type of normalcy. If, of course, you didn’t define normalcy as being anything near normal.

That was the point, though. Pansy was used to battles and fear and plots and life or death situations- the strangeness that had taken over her life was still strange and unnatural, but it wasn’t what she would have usually defined as normal. Like without the threat of war everyone was finally able to act like a regular teenager. To take a break and relax a bit.

To heal.

She would admit that in the beginning she thought having everyone redo a year was the silliest thing she had ever heard of. But sitting there at the Slytherin table (that was still painted in Gryffindor colors) Pansy was able to appreciate that coming back to Hogwarts gave them all a chance to come down off of battle-fever before entering the real world. She thought that it was working, too, despite the attack on Dean and the threat that several of her gender swapped classmates presented.

She could feel a weight that was missing from her shoulders, and judging by the easy smiles of those who surrounded her, she wasn’t the only one who felt that way.

**Daphne:**

She was rubbing her shoulder again; it seemed to be the Pratil twins’ very favorite spot to send a stinging hex hurdling towards and if they kept at it much longer Daphne was pretty positive that her shoulder would forever hold the pain the hex dealt. Some cool brushed against the spot she was rubbing, and Daphne turned to see Neville putting his wand back in his robes- and the rest of her little section of table glaring at it.

Well, everyone except for Weaselby who was content to submerge himself in conversation with his undead brother and pretend like she didn’t exist. It was strange, he could put up with sitting at the same table and she and Theo, but whenever Granger came over the coward scurried away like the rat he was. Whatever.

“Daph, you either need to do something about them or let us do it, but this cannot continue,” Harry said from across from her, with his arms crossed over his chest. Small nods were shared among her friends and judging by the way Little Red was fingering her wand it didn’t look like Daphne had much more time before things were taken out of her hands.

“Listen, I-“she began, before being interrupted by Theo.

“No. I don’t care what you’re about to spew, or what shoddy excuses you’re going to make. You’re like my little sister Daphne and I did _not_ protect you all throughout that bloody war just for you to go and get yourself offed by two little twats with their heads up their arses,” he said. It felt like Theo’s eyes were boring straight into hers- she hadn’t seen him this intense in all the years she had ever known him. Not even when they were forced to take the Mark.

She narrowed her eyes and bit and sat up a little straighter. “I don’t need protecting, Theo.”

“Yeah? _Prove it!”_ he spat.

Daphne glared and was about to do exactly that when Neville put a palm on her arm and gestured up to the podium when the Headmistress stood, greyfaced. Silence gradually fell over the Great Hall, and then the Headmistress spoke.

“I am not, as some of you are probably assuming, here to discuss the events of Friday night, but instead to address another matter. A matter that I wish could be kept from you completely. You may have been wondering why the post has not yet been delivered, and the answer to that is that it has been stalled. News has been released this morning that I feel I should explain before the papers reach you.” McGonagall paused and closed her eyes for a breath before continuing.

“There have been attacks. Attacks by a Wizarding group that has not yet given us a name, a motive, or a long-term goal. We are certain that all of the attacks are done by the same people… which is doubly disturbing because their actions make it nearly impossible to decipher who they are, or their specific targets. We are unable to decipher this because they have been attacking those on either side of the War. Both those who were loyal to Riddle and those who fought for the Order have been slain and it has been made clear that these attacks are not going to stop.

Now despite what the papers may say, this is not the start of another war, not yet at least. However, those who assisted this summer will once again be needed- I will be meeting with you to discuss the details. Very well, the post will be here in a moment or two.”

The Headmistress went to sit at the Head of a Great Hall that barely even resembled the one that she had stood up to greet. There was a chill in the air, one that was all too close to the one Daphne remembered from the year before. A weight settled that she had thought she would never have to feel again, and the all too familiar feel of it made her want to cry.

“What did she mean,” Daphne asked softly. “When she said that those who had helped before would be needed again? What did she mean?”

Neville spoke up beside her. “After the Final Battle there were a lot of Death Eaters who weren’t too happy with how things ended. So during the summer they attacked anywhere and everywhere that they could, in many cases all at the same time. What with rebuilding and everything else going on the Ministry didn’t have enough manpower to handle it all, so those of us who led the Final Battle were given a special type of Galleon that would transport us to where the battles were taking place, so that we could try and help out. We even started hunting the dirty bastards there in the end, too. I caught about 3 Death Eaters this summer, on my own.”

Daphne’s head shot up at this, and she was all too aware of the Mark on her arm as she looked at Neville. “You _hunted_ them?”

“Well, yeah. Of course I did…” Neville’s brow furrowed at her, like he couldn’t figure out what the problem with that was. Did he really not know? She could feel all eyes on her while she reached she move up her sleeve and shove it under his face.

“Must kill you to know that you’ve been sharing your bed with a- what was it? Oh yes, a _dirty bastard._ Ever wonder how many of those you _hunted_ were only running or in hiding because they were afraid? Ever stop to think about whether or not they had a choice in the matter?” Daphne demanded, but Neville was too busy gaping at the brand on her forearm to answer her and she could feel stone forming around her heart. Just like old times.

“I thought not,” she said and she yanked her arm back from him and rolled her sleeve down once more. The table was silent and still, save for Theo who reached over and gripped her hand as hard as he could. Her chest was pounded and there was so much raw energy inside her that she wouldn’t be surprised if she were actually humming with it.

“Daph-“was all Neville was able to say before she sent a silencing charm his way. Shortly after, the post finally arrived and she was glad for the distraction.

Newspapers were dropped all over the place as owls swooped around. Students were tearing into the articles and gasps of shock could be heard all around, and as those around her scanned the lines a voice to her right spoke up in horror.

“Oh no… _Hermione…_ ”

And just as Ronald Weasley moved to run towards the Slytherin table, an anguished scream filled the air.

**Hermione:**

No!

She didn’t even notice the yell that had torn from her throat when she read the name of the village her parents lived in under the list of those that had recently been attacked. In a panicked frenzy Hermione raced through the pages to find names, names of those who had been killed, injured, anything. Upon finding it she saw that her parents were nowhere listed. This, however, did nothing to stop the horror seeping through her veins. Why?

Everyone targeted by the attacks, as far as she had read, was either a wizard or the family of a wizard- and there was only one person in her village with magical blood.

Her.

Hermione’s parents were in danger again, in danger because of who she was. She would have to obliviate and send them away again but she had only just gotten them back.

She wasn’t aware of the fact that she was hyperventilating and sobbing, she wasn’t aware that all of her friends had rushed to her table, led by Ron. She wasn’t aware of anything until a pair of strong, firm hands took ahold of her shoulders and shook her for everything she was worth- when Hermione finally came back to her senses she was staring into a very familiar air of grey eyes.

“Malfoy? What are you-“she stammered through her sobs.

Sobs that came from knowing just what it was she was going to have to do next.

Again.

“Miss Granger,” said the headmistress from behind her, and Hermione turned to face her, attempting to hold her chin up high.

“I need to use your floo, Minerva,” Hermione stated, uncaring of her informality.

“Miss Granger, I’m afraid I cannot allow you to do what it is you intend-”

“Why?” she demanded. “I’ve done it before, I can’t bloody well do it again and then I’ll just fetch them back when all of this has blown over but I can’t just _leave_ them there!”

“To perform a charm of the strength and intricacy of this once and have your parents make a full recovery is standard and expected, yes. But it will not work a second time, Miss Granger…” McGonagall’s voice was soft and sad as she continued. “If you were to obliviate your parents and give them memories a second time, you will be unable to undo the charm.”

There was a roaring sound in her ears and her legs went out from under her as her heart stopped. Somebody caught her and pulled her up against them to keep her steady, but the weight of the statement that had been dropped onto her… how could that be possible?

If she didn’t obliviate her parents then they most likely wouldn’t survive out on their own much longer- not if the attack was so close already. But if she did what was needed to make sure her parents were well and truly safe, she would lose them forever.

People were trying to talk to her, to grab her attention, but her mind was too bust racing through her knowledge of every single protective charm she knew, every loophole she’d ever heard of, searching frantically for a solution. But to every idea that her mind came up with, and thousand reasons sprouted explaining why it wouldn’t work. There had been a reason she had resorted to Obliviation in the first place last year, and that was because it was the only option she had left to her. Still she keeps going round and round inside her own mind, desperately searching for anything that wouldn’t end in her having to give up her parents.

Until, that is, a voice whispered in her ear “Granger, don’t make me have to hex you. But if I have to hold you up much longer I may end up having to do just that.”

Hermione was startled back to the present to find that she could feel her legs beneath her once more. Realizing this she stood on her own, wiped her tears, looked the Headmistress straight in the eye and said, “I really need to use that floo of yours.”

**Pansy:**

She was positive that the look on Hermione’s face as she stared down the Headmistress would be forever burned into her mind, just like the one of Draco surging forward to catch her friend as she collapsed in her own despair. The look on his face when he pulled her in close and held her up would definitely be something that she’d need to confront him about, but now there were more important things to worry about.

Like how far Pansy was willing to go to keep someone else from losing their parents, parents that actually cared about them. With an ache in her heart she thought back to what had happened to her and her family on the night of the Final Battle, shortly after she had been released from the castle.

Pansy reached forward and grabbed onto Dean’s hand while she listened to the argument raging around her, in the hopes that it would distract her from the battle going on inside her own mind.

**Draco:**

How could she possibly want to go through with this? Try as he might, Draco simply couldn’t wrap his mind around how willing Granger was to sacrifice something such as this. It was about as insane as Potter stopping the Weasel King from hexing Draco when he had caught and held her earlier.

Obviously this was a morning for insanity.

“Hermione, you can’t do this. There are other options for you to consider-” Little Red began, but Granger simply cut her off.

“None them are fool proof. They can’t protect themselves Ginny, I can’t afford to leave things to chance,” Granger whispered.

“But Hermione they’re your parents! You don’t… once they’re gone you can’t… I can’t let you do this. Not when you don’t know what-”

“Harry James Potter don’t you _dare_ tell me that I don’t know what it’s like! I’ve preformed this sell before, remember? I know _exactly_ what I am getting myself into and I’ll be damned if I let any of you try and stop me!” Hermione yelled, jabbing her finger at Potter who snapped his jaw shut.

Others looked as if they wanted to say something to try and stop her; others were simply made uncomfortable by the scene going on around them and might possibly be remembering what had unfolded in the Slytherin Common Room the last time the witch had been this upset.

Draco was simply wondering how on earth a person in that much pain could have as much composure as Granger had in that moment. Her world was falling apart, shattering at the seams, and there she was, glaring down anyone who dared to stand in her way. Not too long ago Draco had been in a situation similar to hers, and he hadn’t dealt with the emotional backlash of it half as well as she was doing.

The girl was a marvel, and he couldn’t take his eyes off of her.

Until, of course, Pansy strode over and spoke up.

“Good thing I have a plan C, then, isn’t it? You’ll keep them at my Manor. They’ll have it to themselves, except for the house-elves. And since the Dark Lord himself was unable to break into the grounds, I’m positive that they’ll be safe,” Pansy announced, pale and shaking, as everyone turned to face her.

**Hermione:**

She couldn’t believe her ears- could there really be a way around this?

“He couldn’t break through?” Hermione asked the girl in front of her.

“No,” Pansy answered. “Not that he didn’t try, there in the end. But it’s an ancient type of magic that I suppose he never got around to studying. It wasn’t Dark Arts which is why he didn’t bother, I suppose, but the point remains the same. You can’t lose your parents, Hermione, don’t be daft.”

“Pansy,” Malfoy cut in, “Your parents-”

“Are dead,” Pansy snapped, grimacing as she did so. “They won’t exactly be a problem anymore. I wasn’t kidding when I said it would just be them and the house elves, Hermione.”

She didn’t know what to say. It was a decent solution, and if Voldemort himself couldn’t get through the barriers then what were the chances that anybody else would be able to do it? Precautions could be set up; a permanent floo could be open in the manor so that should something happen her parents could simply floo to Hogwarts! It could work, and that would mean she wouldn’t have to rip her soul out and stomp on it once again.

Truth be told the idea of losing her parents killed her, but she couldn’t allow them to die because of a war they were never even a part of.

They couldn’t die because of her.

“Thank you, Pansy. I… thank you,” she said and she sprang forward to embrace the girl. There was a beat before the embrace was returned, but it was returned nonetheless.

“We will contact your family immediately Miss Granger, and explain the situation,” McGonagall said, and Hermione was about to reply when there was an outburst from Ron, who was addressing her for the first time in weeks.

“Have you bloody well gone mental?! She’s a Death Eater and you’re going to just send your parents off to her home? You might as well sign their death warrant Hermione, are you really such a fool to trust her?” he exclaimed, waving his arms for emphasis.

Some people gasped in shock, several people reached for their wands (whether they wanted to attack Pansy or Ron she couldn’t guess) but the only person Hermione looked for was Pansy, who was grasping her forearm and attempting to make herself invisible with her mind. Seeing Pansy like that, _vulnerable_ , was what decided her.

Glaring at Ron, Hermione reached out and took Pansy’s hand and holding it in her own.

“Yes, Ronald, apparently I am,” Hermione stated before turning and leaving the Great Hall alongside the Headmistress, with Pansy in tow behind her.


	23. Chapter 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay here we go with another chapter! Now I’m sitting here looking at my outlines and such and I realized that I’m not going to be showing certain things that I feel like you all may want me to show. So when I’ve left out a scene that you would really like more information on, or would really like for me to write it just let me know because I’ve decided that I’ll do a series of one-shots that go along with ‘The Sorting’. Missing scenes and the like. So if you feel like I’ve left something out just let me know in a PM and I’ll put it on my list for my other project : ]  
> I love how at this point everyone hates Ron so much that they didn’t notice his initial concern for her when he read the paper. Must mean I’m doing something right! Rest assured for everything I do there is a reason, and he isn’t as horrible a person as you think he is.  
> Also! I am aware of the fact that we are in chapter 23 and there has still not been any smut or anything, but this is a very slow burn and I promise you that it will all be worth the wait! I mean you’ve stuck around for this long to have to at least trust me a little bit, right?  
> Sorry about how long this update took, as those of you who follow me on Tumblr know, I had this chapter almost completed before I pressed a bad button that made it all disappear, forcing me to start all over again.  
> I threw things.  
> And now we get back to the story!

**October 13 th**

**Dinner, Great Hall, Draco:**

Pansy and Granger had been missing since breakfast, as had the Headmistress, and it was really setting Draco on edge.

Then again, at this point it seemed as if everyone was on edge. The tentative peace’s and glimpses of joy that had finally begun to reappear among the students had all but evaporated- leaving behind only a suffocating cloud of depression, fear, and despair. He didn’t miss the glares that were being shot discreetly towards the Slytherin table and each new face that turn towards them made Draco want to hurt something. Did they not listen properly? Had no one paid any attention to the fact that families were being attacked from /both/ sides of the war?

No one knew who was behind these attacks; though a sinking feeling in his gut was trying to tell him that Lucius was a part of it. He went over each word in the letter in his mind, but he just couldn’t seem to make heads nor tails of any of this. Another thing he couldn’t fathom was why he hadn’t known that Pansy’s parents were dead- had she been hiding it? Or was he honestly that horrid a friend that he’d not noticed anything or ignored it in the news? No, she must have been hiding it.

As a matter of fact, the only person who hadn’t seemed surprised at all had been Daphne… but it seemed as if something had happened between her and Longbottom. There was nothing else he could think of that would have she and Theo sitting there at the Slytherin table instead of over with the Gryffindors like they usually were. Now, he didn’t really care about the relationship but Daphne seemed as though she would hex the next person who looked at her the wrong way and he liked his bits the way they were, thank you.

Draco was pulled from his thoughts when a glimpse of something white flashed in the corner of his eye. He turned to see that Loony Lovegood had entered the Great hall, swaying and dancing to her own tune, seemingly undisturbed by the pensive moods of the Hall. She drifted and bobbed, making her way over to the Slytherin table, where she spun around to come up behind Draco and bop him on the head.

He was almost too busy spluttering to catch what it was that she said.

“Things aren’t what they seem; You are who you are but you’re not, he is who he’s always been and yet he’ll never be the same for all that he’ll never change, and that one? That one isn’t himself at all but that’s because they are more than what he is. Hard to deal with that, you know!”

Draco wanted to jinx the silly chit, but his mind was too bogged down trying to make sense of the gibberish she spat out. He sat there going over every word again in his head while Lovegood continued to prattle on at those who sat with him at the table. Daphne was next.

“You know damn well why you’re doing what you are and it’s isn’t for why you think it is. Now stop it because that thought you’re thinking is utter nonsense, meanwhile who knows what’ll happen if the damage isn’t undone? Bad faith on you, Daphne. Now shoo! Follow the Nargles before your ghosts get back.”

He stared in bemused disbelief as a shell-shocked Daphne scrambled to follow the little wisp of a blonde girl’s orders. Not a single word she’d said yet had made sense, and her tone hadn’t drifted off from the quiet musical dreamy lilt that she used on a day to day basis. He continued to watch on as her attention drifted to Dean.

“Stop being stupid, you think this chance will last forever? You know better than that. Oh, and your team won last night, your sister is writing to tell you… act surprised though, alright?”

Blaise received an enigmatic smile. “Yes to your question, though next weekend would be better. I have a bit of a research project that I’m working on and it really is of the highest importance….”

At this point shed begun to drift away, but not before flicking Theo on the nose and giving him a glare that clearly stated ‘I’m watching you’ and had Draco wondering despite himself what it was his friend had done to earn the dratted thing. And then she was gone, skipping away to the Ravenclaw table as if nothing had happened, whistling a merry little tune.

For the rest of the meal Draco had to fight an urge to hex Blaise, although he truly couldn’t imagine why.

**After Dinner, Hufflepuff Common Room, Goyle:**

He didn’t want to go up to his room, because somehow that made everything feel just a little bit worse. The common room was deserted, and he probably should go to the library and find Millie or something so that he could get some of his homework done, but he just lacked the motivation to do any of it. Instead he found himself lying on one of the window seats tucked away into the corner, out of sight for anyone who would want to come down- this way he wouldn’t bother anyone.

Not that his housemates were bad to him or Millie or anything, they were honestly quite amicable. But it wasn’t like any of them reached out to try and be friends or anything, they simply interacted when they had to or else left him to his own devices. Things weren’t so bad for Millie, but then again she hadn’t been as horrible to everyone as he had been.

He wondered how much their opinions would change if they knew that Millie bore the Mark while he didn’t. Would it matter? Greg didn’t begrudge Millie her happiness though, mostly he just missed Vince. The Vince that existed before the War… before everything had gone mad.

Things were still mad, though, for all that it seemed as if he and Lovegood were the only ones to see it. And honestly who would believe him? Or Lovegood for that matter?

No, it was best just to stay quiet. Stay out of the way. It had worked well enough for him so far, hadn’t it?

Loud voices interrupted his thoughts, and once he’d distinguished to whom those voices belonged, Greg was very glad indeed that he’d chosen to hide himself away in the corner.

“-the bloody hell is wrong with you? You don’t talk to her for months and then suddenly you’re rushing over and-“

“I was worried about her, alright?! I saw the name of the village in the paper and I just… lost it! I didn’t want her to be alone when she read it and-“

“Seriously, Ron? I’m surprised you even cared at all, what with the way you’ve been acting.”

“And just what is that supposed to mean?! How could I not care! You weren’t there after she’d obliviated her parents, Harry. You didn’t see what it did to her and… Merlin I just couldn’t think of her having to go through it again,” Weasley said, his voice turning rough.

He heard Potter sigh, and he could picture the man running his fingers through his already messy hair.

“Mate… you’ve got to stop doing this. You’re my best mate and you _know_ that I would do anything for you, but Hermione is like my sister. This whole bloody thing has been killing her, killing all of us really. Especially since you can’t give us any better reason except for the fact that she’s a Slytherin.”

“It’s not like I’m doing it on purpose! Some days I think I’ll try to go over and apologize, which you know I’m not good at, but then I just see her wearing those colors and getting all cozy with _them_ and I lose it and get angry all over again.”

“Ron this is ‘Mione we’re talking a-“

“Don’t call her that.”

Greg heard Potter groan before he continued. “Fine, _Hermione_ has saved our lives more times than I can even count. She’s always been around, always been a part of us. I thought we were done with all the fighting, mate.”

“Yeah, well, so did I Harry.”

“Then what is _wrong_ with you? I feel like this is sixth year all bloody over again!”

“I DON’T FUCKING KNOW, ALRIGHT?! Nothing is right, nothing feels right. One moment I’m fine and the next all I have is _rage_ and nothing makes sense and I can’t fucking control it!” Weasley screamed, sounding a bit hysterical.

“Then stay away from her. I’m serious, Ron. You stay away from her until you manage to pull your head from your arse, because this is just ridiculous. You think I’m happy she’s in Slytherin? No! Anything to do with Slytherin makes my blood boil, and I’ve been having doubts too and I have no bloody clue where they’re coming from or what’s happening to all of us, but this? What you’re doing? You’re splitting everything apart. Get yourself together, and while you do, stay the fuck away from her.”

“Harry-“

“No. No more excuses. Ron, if it comes down to it I’m siding with Hermione on this one.”

And then there were footsteps, the sound of the door closing, and a cry of rage. Or was it desperation? Greg couldn’t tell, but he was left in a unique position. Something was wrong with Weasley, he’d decided this before, but if Potter was turning his back on the man, what good would that do? Greg had experience being all alone, now.

And it was awful.

So he moved from his sofa in the corner to come up next to Weasley, who was still standing in the middle of the room, glaring at the door and breathing heavily. The redhead noticed him and turned, his voice thick when he spoke.

“What do you want, Goyle?”

The violence in his tone almost made him second guess what he was about to do, but what was the worst that could happen? Anything Weasley threw at him couldn’t possibly be worse than some of the things he’d witnessed before.

“Come with me to the library, we can get that essay for Slughorn out of the way,” he answered, studying the other’s reaction closely.

There was no hiding the shock and confusion that took over his features, and for a moment he looked as if he had just been called on unexpectedly in class.

“Have you gone mental? Why in Merlin’s name would I want to go with you?” He asked, dumbfounded.

Greg wasn’t insulted by the question, considering the fact that a part of his own mind was asking himself the very same thing about Weasley. He sighed and shuffled around for a bit before answering.

“I’m not exactly sure if you’ve noticed this, mate, but you haven’t got a lot of options at the moment,” he paused before continuing. “And neither have I.”

Weasley was taking so long to answer that Greg was positive that he would say to bugger off. The redhead’s gaze was on the ground and Greg was about to turn to leave when a quiet voice spoke up.

“Yeah, alright.”

**Around 11pm, Head’s Dorm, Draco:**

It wasn’t like he was waiting up for _her_ or anything. It was Pansy that he was worried about, after all. Not Granger.

Draco was sitting in the arm chair of their private little common room, staring into the fireplace… as he had been for the past few hours.

The Weasley ghost had come to stop in for a chat during that time, and he honestly had no idea what _that_ had become acceptable, but he could understand the ghost’s boredom. The live one had had to return to their little shop of terrors and brightly colored things for a bit, and until he returned the ghost had found himself with not much to do.

Apparently Peeves was off working on a ‘big project’ -words that caused a groan to escape Draco’s lips because he just _knew_ there would be a mess to clean up afterwards. They still hadn’t been able to get rid of the paint on the House tables in the Great Hall, and Draco, for one, was getting tired of eating his meals while the top of his table danced with the Gryffindor Crest.

After the ghost had gone (with a promise to come by again) Draco was left to stare at the flames, doing his best to keep his thoughts from forming because if that were to happen he would be forced to contemplate Lovegood’s words from earlier. Words that still made no sense but still sent shivers up and down his spine, possibly because he felt as though he was losing all sense of his own identity... and did he ever even have on in the first place?

The portrait opened and through it came an exhausted Granger- who stopped short the moment she noticed Draco in the room. Or maybe it was because the moment the portrait had opened, Draco had leapt to his feet.

This was already beginning to feel like that first morning in the bathroom all over again.

“Malfoy... were you… waiting on me?” Granger asked tentatively, almost as if she couldn’t believe it. And why would she? The chit had no knowledge of the fact that Draco had been set a task by a crazy old hat, a quest that he’d been dutifully ignoring for the most part, but that was honestly beside the point, wasn’t it?

“Erm.”

Oh, yes, Draco. That was very eloquent, sure to answer all of the questions in her head, not sprout more as raise suspicion to the fact that you’re acting like a 12 year-old.

Merlin. Was she smiling? Salazar help him, she was. He was being laughed at by Granger and when had this become his life? Draco felt as if he needed to have a nice long chat with himself about things that were and were not acceptable because it seemed he had completely forgotten.

Her hands were very small…

“Why did you catch me, earlier? Several times actually today you… why?” she asked, and why did she sound so afraid of him?

His mind flashed to the images of her writhing on his drawing room floor, screaming while her eyes pleaded with him to help her and he did nothing. To the image of him about to attack her in the bathroom after she’d brought him back to his senses. Of all the times he’d tormented her over the years… who was he kidding? Of course she would be afraid of him.

“Because I didn’t help you when I should have,” he said quietly. What was it about this girl that always had words flowing from his mouth without verifying them with his head first? This sort of behavior was not becoming of a Malfoy, and it would not do for it to continue on any longer.

The look on her face, Draco admitted, may have indeed been worth it though. Her mouth popped open into a small little oh of surprise, and her eyes widened just a bit. It seemed as if he wasn’t the only one to be caught off guard that night. Granger seemed to be struggling to find anything to say, and the silence was getting a bit thick for his liking, so he continued.

“Your parents?” he asked, hoping that she would know what he meant. She seemed to come back to herself at his inquiry, and nodded.

“They’ve been moved… Pansy has even decided to accept other muggle-born parents into her manor, if they wish it. But we spent the day getting them settled… I think my father enjoys house-elves a bit too much for my liking,” she rambled, as though she was nervous. It was a rather refreshing sight to see, if he was honest.

An eyebrow quirked at her mention of house-elves.

“I do believe that would be something along the lines of a pot calling a kettle black, if I’m not mistaken…”

“Oh, pack it in, I don’t want to hear it,” Granger said, though there was a laugh written on her face as she did so. The girl began moving up the stairs to her bedroom, yawning, and leaving Draco standing in the common room staring after her. That is until she stopped and seemed to debate something for a bit, if the wavering in her steps was anything to go by. And then she turned her head and said, “Goodnight… Draco.”

That infuriating witch was through her door and into her bedroom, where Little Red was already asleep, before what she’d said had fully registered in his mind.

Now it was Draco’s turn to be dumbfounded.


	24. Chapter 24

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm back!!!!

**October 14 th**

**Girls Dormitory’s, Morning, Daphne:**

Despite what Loony Lovegood had told her yesterday, she hadn’t been able to bring herself to go and confront Neville, which meant that she had spent the night in fear of an attack from the Pratil twins. Nothing had happened yet, but there was still plenty of time before breakfast.

While Daphne kept herself hidden behind her curtains, waiting in the hopes that the twins would leave before she would be forced to get ready for the day, she inspected the random carvings that girls had done on the four poster over the years. It was only something to pass the time and she hadn’t truly been paying attention until she came across a carving that sent ice down her spine:

Lavender Brown

That’s it. It was just her name, but it had been carved in the most sickeningly spirally handwriting that Daphne could almost picture the silly chit giggling as she did it.

This had been her bed, and she would bet anything that a large part of the violence being directed towards her had to do with what bed she was using- and wasn’t that just the most ridiculous thing? All they would have had to do was _ask_ her and Daphne would have gladly moved to the spare bed in the room, but no. Instead they decided to- ugh!

For some reason seeing that name made a warm tingling sensation travel throughout her body, filling her with ire and a rage that settled out her nerves a bit. She was Daphne Greengrass, formally of Slytherin, and she was damned if she was going to be afraid of two stupid bints with a misplaced grudge. Daphne threw open her curtains, wand in hand, and disarmed the girls in her dormitory while they stared on in shock. With a flick of her wrist she sent their wands out of the room and down into the Common Room, forcing the twins to race after them, howling with rage all the while.

A smile graced her lips while Daphne closed and locked the door, using several spells that would surely take them awhile to figure out, leaving Daphne to get ready in peace.

Oh, yes. It was time for a little bit of retribution.

**Great Hall, Breakfast, Hermione:**

Ordinarily Hermione would have been overthinking and overanalyzing her entire conversation with Malfoy last night, and why exactly she had used his first name, with Ginny over at the Gryffindor table, now that she had the option to be there. However, after her conversation with Pansy, she felt as though the girl might need someone to fend off the questions about her parents that would no doubt be coming.

She had figured without Dean.

Dean who had suddenly decided that principles and pasts and current situations be damned, he was going to just go with it. Which is why Hermione had the joy of Seamus Finnegan sitting with them at the Slytherin table that morning, because the lad had nearly suffered a fit at the sight of Dean walking straight up to Pansy at the entrance to the Great Hall and kissing her full on the lips.

Even better were the gasps of surprise when Pansy had not only allowed him to do this unscathed, but had blushed and taken his hand afterwards- Nott’s boisterous laughter had echoed throughout the completely silent hall for a few moments until someone had silenced him.

So now Seamus was there, supporting his best friend and acting as a guard against the stares and questions and downright murderous looks coming from many of the students surrounding them.

It was really a strange situation, Hermione thought. Dean was muggle-born and Pansy a pureblood, had everything really changed so much that they could be together? It wasn’t as though the two had hated each other specifically before, but what about everything they stood for? Pansy had fought alongside Voldemort and had seemed to agree with many of the core concepts of his rule. Of course, Hermione knew that it was quite likely the girl hadn’t had a choice in the matter- hadn’t they all just spoken to each other about the utter lack of choices they’d all had in the war?

Even the relationship between Neville and Daphne hadn’t been quite as shocking because at least they were both purebloods, not to mention that Neville was a well-respected war hero now. But Pansy and Dean… well she did suppose that anything was possible. And wasn’t that a strange thought?

Hermione bit into her toast and only vaguely listened in to what was being spoken about around her, and alright yes she may have been doing this so that she wouldn’t have to confront Malfoy before she’d had a chance to talk to Ginny, until Seamus directed a very loud question at her.

“So Hermione, how’s all that planning for that Masque going on Halloween? Comin’ along alright?” he asked.

She dropped the fork in her hand and her mouth opened up in surprise. How could she have forgotten?! Yes she’d been preoccupied what with making the Sacerdos Potion and planning how to distribute it… and then there was Fred coming back as a ghost, and then her parents, but this was no excuse.

While Hermione was busy berating herself and preparing to hand herself over to the Headmistress for being a failure as Head Girl, Malfoy spoke up.

“Charge of that has been handed over to that Goldstein fellow and the Patil twins. They’ve got it all planned out, supposedly it’s going to be grand, and they’re refusing to allow anyone else to assist them with it. Aside from anything they might need the permission of the Headmistress for, they event is completely in their hands,” he said.

Hermione could feel his gaze on her and she felt her heart rate pick up a little bit at the thought. It made absolutely no sense for that to have happened, just as it had made no sense for her to have called him Draco the night before, but as Dean and Pansy had shown just a few minutes earlier, anything was indeed possible. She knew that she ought to meet his gaze but what would happen- enough! She was a Gryffindor, she was braver than this!

“Well, there you go. Thank you for that, Draco,” she said as she looked him in the eye.

Bloody hell she had done it again!

Malfoy’s eye widened slightly at the sound of his name, and a beat of silence filled their section of the table. Was he smiling a bit now? Was it in fact possible for Draco Malfoy to smile at something that wasn’t at the expense of another person? The small upturn of the corners of his lips served to assert that it was, in fact, possible. And the sight really shouldn’t have transfixed her as much as it had.

“You had other things to attend to at the time, so it truly wasn’t any trouble… Hermione,” he said softly, the small smile that had appeared growing even larger as he spoke.

Hermione tried to pretend as though her heart hadn’t started pounding in her chest at the sound of her name crossing his lips without any malice behind it- was this how he had felt when she said _his_ name? Godric help her she must be losing her mind.

“Well,” Blaise stated loudly, breaking the silence and allowing Hermione to tear her eyes off of Malfoy’s. “That was friendly. How about a distraction? I vote we discuss why Daph looks as though someone is about to die a very slow and painful death, while Longbottom looks as though he’s lost his bloody toad again.”

Distraction indeed.

**Potions, Ginny:**

Ginny was glad that Hermione had a friend over in Slytherin, she truly was, but there was some part of her that was a bit upset about the fact that Hermione was choosing to spend time with Parkinson instead of her.

Yes, they spent every night together, but they were generally out like lights as soon as they hit the mattress and Ginny had to wake up early in order to get back up to Gryffindor Tower to get ready each morning. Showering in the dungeons wasn’t an option- that water was _freezing_ and no one was awake enough that early in the morning to perform a heating charm. She understood that Hermione was going through a lot; of course she did, but ever since Fred had revealed himself things had been odd for Ginny.

A strange resentment sprang up at the weirdest of times- why hadn’t Hermione told her anything about her plan for revenge? Why did Fred choose to reveal himself to _her_ first? What had she been sorted into stupid bloody _Slytherin_ instead of Gryffindor where she belonged?! And of course these bouts of strangeness disappeared as soon as they came, but it was still unsettling. Not to mention that she couldn’t talk to anyone about it without sounding as ridiculous and irrational as her thrice cursed brother.

Fred wasn’t helping.

Ginny was overjoyed that Fred was still around… sort of. But it was almost as if the wound was torn fresh every time that her brother popped out in front of her, because although he was there… he wasn’t, really. He was still dead. He would never age, never marry, and never have children. Never again sneak into her room late at night and smuggle her out of the window do go out on a late night adventure. Never hold her when she was frightened- instead he would be forced to live a half-life. Forced to watch his family grow up around him, die around him while he lingered, unless he was indeed able to follow George in his death.

And though her heart ached at the loss of her brother, she ached for him more. And none of it was fair.

Slughorn marched his way through the door, a few minutes early, and Ginny glanced over at Hermione to note the disappointment on the other girl’s face. When their eyes met, Hermione mouth ‘ _I need to talk to you after class’_ with a sort of desperate look on her face, and a small weight lifted itself from Ginny’s shoulders. Of course nothing was wrong with their friendship, she was just being stupid.

…she hoped.

Harry chose this moment to be observant apparently and nudged her, a question and a bit of concern in his eyes. Merlin how she loved this man. He knew her well enough to know that she was certainly more than capable of handling her own issues and wouldn’t butt in on things if she didn’t want him to, and she had to say it was refreshing. They’d almost not recovered their relationship after the Final Battle- the fact that he’d tried to keep her safe in the Room of Requirement still irked her to no end, but he more than made up for it later, when the Ministry had needed all the help they could get.

That first time McGonagall had shown up at the Burrow asking for their aid, Ginny had been so sure that Harry would stand alongside her mother once again and refuse to let her fight. Instead, much to everyone’s surprise, he was the first to place one of the golden charms in her hand and won the stare-down that later ensued with her mum. Not that Ginny didn’t understand why it was her mum didn’t want her fighting, after the loss of Fred, but that was precisely the reason why she’d needed to fight in the first place.

“Gin you do realize that if you leave this potion to me it’s going to be a disaster, right? Knut for your thoughts?” Harry asked, jolting Ginny out of her thoughts and bringing her attention to the task at hand.

“Oh it’s nothing, I just got lost in my own mind for a bit, that’s all,” she reassured him, before looking at the wreckage of daisy roots before her. “Honestly Harry it’s not all that difficult to cut them in _equal_ pieces…”

She had managed to keep her attention and thoughts completely on the potion for a good while after that, until there was a small explosion and screaming coming from the table behind her.

**Potions, Draco:**

At least now he understood why Daph had been uncorking a bottle of undiluted buttorbubber pus, seems how they were lucky enough that it wasn’t actually required for this potion.

The explosion of the Patil twins cauldron was really rather spectacular, and if Draco hadn’t personally seen Daphne’s wand conducting the pus into their cauldron while they weren’t looking he would never have suspected her to be the culprit, not with the look of horror on her face. In fact, the horror didn’t seem to be as faked as it was-

Oh no.

While the Patil twins screamed in pain and outrage at the giant, Slytherin green, boils sprouting on their flesh from each spot the potion touched them (disfiguring them rather magnificently) they moved around enough to show that a third person had been affected by the explosion. Longbottom, who had been walking by to get more supplies from the closet, he assumed, had managed to get the vile potion all down the length of his robes. And while at least none of it had touched his skin directly and boils weren’t forming, it seemed that hadn’t stopped the other effects from happening.

After a moment of shock, the lad started screaming as the fumes scorched his nose and the heat seared his side.

A quick glance at Daphne showed that she was close to tears, though she was vanishing the solution from Longbottom’s robes just as quickly as she could, apologizing profusely as she did. But Draco saw the pain the man was in and thought there wasn’t any way the bloke would be able to forgive that easily- in fact given the recent events is was altogether too possible that he may have thought she’d caught him with the potion on purpose.

The classroom quickly became a flurry of motion as everyone either rushed to Longbottom’s aide or set about work vanishing the potion anywhere they could find it, as it truly had managed to get everywhere. Draco himself was checking and double checking from the corner of his eye to be sure that Granger hadn’t been caught in the splash, once again repeating to himself that it was only due to the pact he’d made with the bloody hat- but he needn’t have worried, the chit was fine. Rushing about the room and helping out where she could.

Slughorn was somehow the only one who was doing anything to help to Pratil twins though; Draco was overjoyed to point out. Their boils looked as though they were starting to grow a funny silver fungus on top of them at this point- successfully decking them with splotches that looked to be suspiciously formed in the Slytherin crest all over their bodies.

Later he would laugh, but at the moment he needed to make himself look busy so as to continue dodging any attempt Pansy made to grill him about the little exchange between Granger and himself at the breakfast table. One might think this miniscule little detail might have been overlooked what with Pansy’s new relationship with Dean Thomas, but of course not.

Class was dismissed early and Draco managed to slip out the door without being noticed, thinking over recent events.

Where in the name of Merlin’s baggy y-fronts did that whole relationship spring up from, anyway? Had he truly not been paying that much attention? Had he been that far gone from his friend’s lives? In time’s past Draco wouldn’t believe such a thing possible, but perhaps it was time for him to reconsider. He still hadn’t the slightest clue what had happened with Pansy’s parents (he’d written to his mother of it the night before, but he’d yet to receive an owl back, perhaps she was as shocked as the rest of them), and now she was supposedly with Dean.

Somewhere in the corner of his mind, Draco agreed with his assessment that he’d made their first day back: the war must have handed out personality transplants, because there just didn’t seem to be any way for Draco to justify any of this happening in the first place. Consequences would be paid, of course, but with Nicolai’s cronies locked away in the Hospital wing as they tried to decipher what caused their little gender mishap, there weren’t many who would take action against it. After all, Pansy’s role in the war wasn’t very well known, not to mention that Dean himself wasn’t a notable figure.

It was something to be thought about of course, what was acceptable in this new regime, but surely things couldn’t have changed this quickly?

Draco needed to have a good long chat with Pansy and Blaise about all of this, of course, but there was no way in hell he was even going near them until he’d sorted things out in his own mind. It made for a lonely existence, of course, but what choice did he have?

Somehow he’d managed to lose himself- did he even have a self? Who was he is not his father’s son? If not all of the old traditions and ways of being and beliefs that he’d once held but were never really his in the first place? There was no one for him to talk it all over with, that was for certain, leaving Draco alone in his own self-made despair.

Granger certainly wasn’t wrong when she’d stated that the lot of them were lost without the war.

**Headmistress Office, Before Lunch, Minerva:**

Godric but she hated dealing with parents. How had Albus ever done this? They were all absurd!

How was she supposed to know or prevent something like this from happening? There was nothing that gave any sort of proof as to whom had caused their children to suddenly be of the opposite sex and, no, as a matter of fact it did _not_ matter that said children were absolutely positive the culprit was Miss Granger. There was no proof, and as such- no, the school would _not_ submit Miss Granger to questioning under Veritaserum! The idea was absolutely preposterous! Miss Granger Head Girl and as such she would _never_ -

And on and on it had gone for _hours._

Minerva hadn’t even realized that she’d been rubbing her temples until an altogether too amused voice spoke out for behind her.

“Headache, Minerva? Because I would pleased to offer certain… suggestions… as to how to-“

“No _thank_ you Severus. For the third time today, I do believe that I am quite capable of handling this situation without your help!” she snapped, her lips thinning into a line as she cursed the day that the artist had finished this particular portrait.

Ever since he’d been given his place on the wall, Severus seemed to be doing his very best to make her life more difficult. During her conference earlier with all of the parents of the Slytherin students who were now residing in the Hospital Wing he’d even gone so far to point out that Miss Granger was the only student currently attending Hogwarts who had the skill to brew the Sacerdos potion correctly! This of course led to a whole new argument (frequently interrupted by her former colleague) and finally she was forced to stun the man’s portrait in order to get the meeting to carry on in peace!

It had been stupid and childish, of course, not to mention it had certainly earned Albus’ disapproval and made certain that Severus would be insufferable for ages- but she couldn’t help it. Minerva was at her wits end trying to sort through everything that was happening, not to mention she had to prepare herself for the confrontation she would have later that day when she informed the students that regardless of their current gender they would be attending classes the next day.

She wasn’t looking forward to it.

Her fingers resumed the rubbing of her temples as she tried to distract herself from the moral dilemma forming in her mind regarding Miss Granger, and found a suitable distraction in the form of the pile of gold medallions sitting in a drawer of her desk. Godric but she didn’t want to hand these out again, but the ranks of the Ministry were still entirely too depleted to be able to handle everything on their own. And while she understood Kingsley’s reasons for not calling in international wizards to help, Minerva couldn’t help but wish he’d gone on with it anyway.

At least then she wouldn’t be putting her student’s in harm’s way. Again.

These medallions were spelled so that they would act as a portkey, taking the wearer and any who touched it to the destination under attack. The destination would of course appear written on it so that they could be prepared for whatever would face them. Just the sight of them made her blood run cold, but it was better to err on the side of safety, and these students had been proving themselves time and time again since they’d first walked through the giant oak doors.

This distraction was doing her no good whatsoever, so Minerva returned her attention to the problem at hand.

“I know it was Miss Granger, it _had_ to have been Miss Granger. But what do I _do_ about it?!” she exclaimed, finally unable to take it anymore. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Severus open his mouth, but she silenced him before he had the chance to speak.

  
“Why, Minerva, you do nothing of course!” Albus chuckled from his portrait, smiling down at her from behind his spectacles.

Beg her pardon?

“But it was her! Do you realize how many school rules were broken? The damage done to the students? This, of course, leads me to believe that she had to have had a damn good reason to do it which- hm. They must have been those who attacked Mr. Thomas, why hadn’t I thought of that earlier?” she muttered to herself, losing her train of thought.

She saw Severus rolling his eyes at her.

“But if that is true, then what is to be done? They all can’t simply get away with it!”

“My dear, does it truly seem as if they have gotten away with it? Not to mention you lack any sort of proof,” Albus said softly, his eyes sparkling in amusement.

“Of _course_ not, but you can’t expect me to just accept this, this, vigilante justice?! Do you??!” Minerva demanded, slack jawed.

“Hm.”

“But-but- “

“Would you care for a lemon drop, Minerva? I do believe that there are still a few packets hiding in the top drawer…”

Minerva stood, her mouth working but no sound coming out of it and she openly stared incredulously as her former mentor. This entire situation as madness! Albus and the rest of the portraits who were awake smiled down at her, while Severus seemed to be laughing until he was blue in the face and- and-

And if she didn’t leave that room soon she was going to throw something.

Minerva stormed out, muttering to herself about batty old men and their scheming thoughts, unaware even of where exactly she was headed. Surely there must be _some_ wretched disaster somewhere in this castle that needed her attention.

Severus stopped laughing when the door to the office slammed and he realized he would be silenced until Minerva decided to come back and undo it.

He wanted to throw something.


	25. Chapter 25

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The closer I get to certain events happening, the more impatient I get with myself. But, since I am really starting to get anxious at this point, here is what I am doing. This update right here is going to be RIDICULOUSLY SHORT and full of filler that I just don’t feel comfortable moving on without adding in. Now, I’m going to crank this out really quick, and then IMMEDIATELY write the next chapter. I am not going to eat, sleep, pee, or move from this spot on the couch until I have written and posted BOTH chapters tonight. I would just combine everything into one, but the CDO in me (that’s ‘OCD’ but it’s in alphabetical order, like it should be) just won’t let me do it. So I’m doing it like this instead.

**Still October 14 th**

**Ravenclaw Common Room, Seamus:**

He tossed aside the copy of the Daily Prophet he’d been reading only a moment or so before, in disgust. The front page was blaring with photos and garish headlines about yet another round of attacks. None of the village names belonged to those Seamus knew, but it didn’t stop chills from racing up his spine.

Wasn’t all of this supposed to be over now?

Seamus trudged up the stairs to his new dormitory and pulled a tattered and worn Gryffindor scarf out of his chest. It had been Lavender’s, and if he strained his memory hard enough he could still manage to delude himself into believing the faded fabric still held her scent. Inhaling deeply, the cold grip of grief clamped around his insides yet again as he worked to hold back a sob.

Not many had known that he and Lavender had gotten together over the summer before 7th year, but they had. And throughout the horrors that were placed upon them, the few stolen moments he’d had with Lavender had been what kept him going. There were even days that they’d managed to convince themselves that things would work out, that Harry would win and they’d both still be alive and they would be able to go back to Seamus’ home in Ireland.

She had so desperately wanted to see Ireland.

And on those days, Seamus could remember feeling as light and happy as he had as a child, and it was that feeling of lighthearted and pure happiness that he had used to ward off Dementor’s during the final battle, casting one Patronus directly after another with no end in sight- until he heard it.

Banshees were curious creatures, because although they were not evil, they were feared. The awful thing about that was you only had reason to fear them if you were a part of certain bloodlines- something to do with an ancient curse or pact or something, Seamus never bothered to get the details. All he knew was that he would hear the cry of a Banshee each time someone he loved died, as his Gran explained to a sobbing 4 year old Seamus, who couldn’t understand that awful noise he had heard- and why wasn’t Da home yet?

While he attended the funeral, the young Seamus had vowed to find a way to never hear that awful cry ever again, and he’d managed to go 14 years before it sounded in his ears once more.

There were only two people fighting in that battle who could possibly have made the Banshee cry, and since Dean was fighting by his side, Seamus knew. He knew what had happened and his Patronus evaporated on the spot, requiring Dean to save his stupefied arse and drag him off to try and snap him out of it- because how could he have known?

Seamus removed his face from Lavender’s old scarf in order to keep his tears from sullying the material, thinking once again about the attacks. The war was supposed to be over now. There was supposed to be peace, to show that Lavender had died for _something_. That it wasn’t in vain.

Anger boiled in his veins, causing him to let out a cry of rage and kick his trunk across the room before collapsing on the bed.

Of course it wasn’t in vain, wasn’t Dean’s relationship with that Parkinson chit evidence enough of that? Aye it was unexpected and weird and quite frankly Seamus wasn’t entirely sure how he felt about it, but that wasn’t the point. The point was that Lavender had died so that things like this could happen. Better world, and all that. And if they wanted to throw all of the rule books out of the window and tell the world to sod off then the odd couple had every right, and Seamus would support them and see to it that any who didn’t had better keep their opinions to themselves.

There were, of course, those who would stand opposed to their relationship. In fact Seamus could think of one group in particular who would most likely cause problems, but at the moment they currently had a few problems of their own to deal with- thanks to Hermione.

A small smile graced his lips as Seamus recalled the way those slimy bastards had tried to act as if nothing was wrong, even as they all walked awkwardly in bodies that it was obvious they still hadn’t figured out how to operate. Ridicule and jinxes followed them everywhere they had gone- several times Clarissa’s robes had turned into frilly pink dresses that fit horribly on the muscular body she now wore.

Oh how he wished Lavender could have seen it, she’d always hated Clarissa.

He could almost imagine the glee on her face as he told her that the whole group of Slytherin’s would have to remain in their gender-swapped bodies until the day after the Masque- Hermione’s timing truly had been perfect, in that respect. She had to have known how long the antidote would take to brew.

Seamus folded the scarf up and placed it next to his head on his pillow.

Eventually those evil bastards would be back to themselves and causing more trouble than ever before, but this time Seamus wasn’t going to stand for it. Any of it. As a matter of fact, he wouldn’t be standing for anyone causing _any_ type of trouble, not when Lavender had died for peace.

Not when he had nothing left to lose.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay! Now that I’ve gotten that out of the way, I can move on. Also I know that I may have, erm, tweaked Banshees a bit but I did it only because I had to and it was important for Seamus’ backstory and his own little side-plot that he has going on. And I just didn’t feel comfortable moving on without giving you all of this information in this chapter.  
> Right.  
> So.  
> This next chapter is going to be a long one, and trust me, I’m pretty sure you’ll be pleased with it!


	26. Chapter 26

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See? Told you! Okay, so, fun bit for this chapter is that I HAVE A SONG FOR DRACO! There is going to be a scene in this that I want you all to listen to a certain song while you read- just trust me, okay? Now, I’m going to mark this scene with this: ###. Now, when you see that symbol, I need you all to go to YouTube or something and put on this song: Mayday by The Icarus Account.  
> It is the song that I attribute to Draco for basically my entire fic, but namely that one particular scene. Trust me. I mean you don’t really have to listen to it while you read, just know that the song fits that scene.

***TIME JUMP***

**OCTOBER 31 st**

**Bathroom, Before the Masque, Hermione:**

Ginny had decided to get ready up in Gryffindor with Daphne so that she could walk down with them and attempt to ease a bit of the awkwardness that had formed within their little group since Daphne and Neville had stopped talking. Not that she didn’t trust Pansy to help her get ready, that wasn’t it at all. The other girl was merely a bit… overwhelming was all.

When normally Pansy didn’t talk all that much, now it seemed as if her mouth never stopped moving- going on about different ways to do their hair, make-up, what they were going to use for masks, and not a word of it made any bit of sense to Hermione.

Apparently it was tradition not to use something physical for a mask, but rather a glamour spell. One that incorporates the hair, face, and according to Pansy there were even some that could go onto the dress, too! Of course Hermione had been thinking about what she would go as, but the only thing that she seemed to go with the gown that both Ginny and Pansy had forced her to purchase (those two really ought not to be on the same side for things, as the result was rather frightening) was mermaid, and since she knew for a fact the magical version did _not_ coincide with the muggle version that was absolutely not an option.

Normally she would consider just changing the color of the gown, but it really was just too beautiful to consider.

The design was simple; a strapless corset top with a bell skirt that flowed from it- what made it special was the colors. Dancing over it was a myriad of shades- all ranging from a deep turquoise to a midnight blue. The colors moved and flowed and sparkled so that it looked as if the dress was attempting to mirror itself to the depths of the ocean. It was a beautiful dress, one that could be admired not only for the vain aspects that had enthralled Ginny and Pansy enough they purchased the same style but in different colors (Daphne had instead gone for a plain dark gown) but also for the amazing spell work! As a matter of fact as soon as she had laid her eyes upon the dress her first reaction was to race over to the store owner to discuss the process with them, leaving only when dragged by physical force.

“… a peacock.”

Oh dear, apparently she had zoned out for a tad too long.

“I beg your pardon?” Hermione asked.

A devilish smirk lit up her friend’s face, as though she knew a secret that she was refusing to share. “You, my darling Hermione, are going to be a peacock.”

And not another word was said before Pansy began attacking Hermione with her wand and an armada of beauty spells that not even Hermione knew the names of.

**Head’s Dorm, Before the Mask, Draco:**

“Sounds like a bloody battle is being fought in there mate,” Fred Weasley said as he floated through Draco’s closed bedroom door.

It was a mark of how often this happened that Draco didn’t even start, merely snorted and nodded his agreement.

“Yes, well, your charming sister left Granger to Pansy’s mercy. You’ll be lucky if you can even recognize her when she pops out of there now,” he said. There was no need to ask where the live one was- he had been forced to attend to his business for the night but would undoubtedly be returning to the castle soon. According to Fred there was talk of getting the live one a job or something at Hogwarts so that he wouldn’t have to keep sneaking onto the grounds.

The other day Draco could have sworn he’d heard the Headmistress muttering something about irritating and interfering portraits that thought too well of themselves who had no right to go gallivanting off a creating positions- so he reckoned Fred might actually be onto something.

“Yes, well, Hermione a big girl she can take care of-“

A scream escaped the bathroom then, followed by a shout from Pansy, “Oh Granger you big baby, get back over here!”

With wide eyes and a snort of amusement fighting to break free, Draco cast a silencing spell on the bathroom and raised an eyebrow at the ghost who was currently lounging on his bed.

“Well then. What’re you going as, anyway? Blokes have it a mite easier than the ladies but I see you still haven’t made your mask yet.”

It was obviously going to be too much to ask, yet again, why it was the ghost was determined to hang around and make conversation since he’d refused to answer every other time. One Fred got settled it was really best to just answer his questions until he got bored, otherwise he could prove to be _quite_ an annoyance.

Draco gestured down at his dusky white robes, smiled, and then waved his wand to his face to cast his glamour- his grey eyes merged with an icy blue, white hair and ears sprouted in all of the appropriate places, and the glamour itself extended down to the tip of his nose but no farther, doing just enough to give the illusion of being…

“A white wolf, very nice. Somehow despite the robes I suppose I was expecting you to be a dragon or something,” Fred commented.

The responding eye roll couldn’t be helped. “Yes, Draco the Dragon. Come on then Weasley I thought you had a bit more originality than that!”

This earned Draco a glare and a raspberry, before the ghost had vanished and left Draco on his own to finish up.

**The Masque, Pansy:**

It was a good job that Hermione wasn’t in charge of the Masque because by the time the type of hem arrived it had already begun, but it had been worth it. Even Hermione had agreed, once she saw what she looked like in the end.

Pansy had slicked all of her hair back into a tight, neat little bun that was placed low on her neck. Since Hermione was already quite pale, Pansy had decided to do naturalist make-up and made it so that the only color to be found on the girls face was the glamour of a peacock. Male, of course, because those were the gorgeous ones, but that wasn’t the point. The illusion sprouted gorgeous feathers to frame her face, altered her eyes to that of the bird, and even Hermione shimmering lipstick to match that of her dress.

Not all that much had been done, in the end, but in Pansy’s opinion the effect was stunning.

But as they entered the great hall, Pansy’s eyes did not seek out the crowd’s response to her beautiful handiwork. No, instead she was busily scanning the crowd for a certain panther… and when their eyes met she couldn’t help the grin that dominated her face.

Oh if only he parents could see her now…

With a nod to Hermione, Pansy floated, or at least it looked as if she floated, over to where Dean was standing by an empty table.

“Hello,” she said, hating the breathy way her voice sounded. Dean looked handsome, and she wanted nothing more than to leap onto the dance floor with him, but he seemed to be enjoying taking his time to examine her costume.

Her dress was the same as Hermione’s and Little Red’s, although her colors were a million different shades of gold. She’d glamoured herself to glow and had veiled the top portion of her face with a golden mist and even went so far as to add a golden fog at her feet and a pair of wings onto her back.

“A fairy?” he asked, the smile reaching all the way to his eyes. It was a smile that made Pansy very thankful no one could see her blush behind her veil.

**At the Masque, Hermione:**

Everything was going perfectly. The decorations were stunning, the costumes were enthralling, and Hermione couldn’t remember the last time she had allowed herself to relax as much as she was.

Ginny, whose dress was like hers though in varying shades of red, had become a vixen for the night, tying her hair up, glamouring it to be siren red and, of course, her mask.  Daphne, in her black dress had become a raven, while Theo, Harry and Neville were a Sphinx, an owl, and an eagle, respectively.

Birds seem to be quite the theme for the night, though; of course, there was enough variety that the effect was enchanting rather than boring.

There had been no sign of either Malfoy or Ron, Hermione had danced several times each with Ginny, Pansy, Harry, Dean, Seamus (a Phoenix), and Neville. Before she knew it hours had passed and she was so full of Butterbeer and good cheer that she had begun to believe that, for once, nothing was going to go wrong. Even McGonagall, who had been rather stiff all evening, was beginning to loosen up with relief.

How foolish they both had been.

Hermione was considering going to join in on a group dance with Daphne and Theo, in an effort to try and get to know them better, when someone grabbed her elbow and spun her around to face the opposite direction.

For a moment it was almost as though she had been blinded- everything had gone white. But then she allowed her gaze to travel up the lean figure in front of her and she had to fight to contain a small gasp. Even though they had been altered rather expertly to become those of a wolf, Hermione would know those eyes anywhere. Thankfully, before she started stammering for no bloody reason at all, he decided to speak and save her any embarrassment.

“I do hope you managed to save a dance for me, Granger,” he said softly, though it was impossible for her to read his tone.

Back to ‘Granger’ again, was it? And what was he playing at, asking her for a dance? Was he being serious? She could feel the eyes of her friends at her back and decided she better act quickly before anything happened or some tactless individual who shall remain unnamed decided to be noble and think that Malfoy was bothering her.

“I believe I can still fit you in, Malfoy. Since you did such a wonderful job on your costume, that is,” she replied lightly, hoping with each passing breath that no one could tell how fast her heart was beating. Because, honestly, no one had the right to still look attractive while they were disguised as a wolf, but unfortunately all it did was remind Hermione how Malfoy had looked that night when he had turned up wearing nothing but a towel and had confronted both she and Ginny.

He smiled at her, _actually smiled_ , “You look pretty good yourself there, Granger.”

And then he did the oddest thing, Malfoy reached out and grabbed her hand, bowed a complicated bow that Hermione had never seen before, and then vanished into the crowd.

All of a sudden her friends were at her side, some were laughing but Harry was demanding to know what had just happened. It was Pansy who answered.

“She’s just promised him the last dance of the night, Potter.” At both Hermione and Harry’s confused faces, Pansy rolled her eyes and continued. “It’s a pureblood tradition. That’s what the bow meant. Asking to save a dance, exchange of a compliment, accepting of a dance, and the bow. I _knew_ he would like your costume…”

For a moment Hermione battled within herself between demanding an explanation from Pansy and making a quick escape so that she didn’t _have_ to get an explanation from the girl. Oh she would eventually get answers from her, that was certain, but she’d prefer not to do it with quite so many people around them.

In the crowd, Hermione spotted the Patil twins and decided to make for the quick escape. While Harry attempted to make the same bow to Ginny, Hermione slipped out of their group and moved towards the twins, who had recently been cleared of all of their boils and blemishes much to most everyone’s disappointment. And, although she did not like the girls they _had_ been the ones in charge of the Masque. Since it had turned out so beautifully Hermione felt that, as head Girl, she really ought to congratulate them and offer her thanks.

She was right in front of them, when she was intercepted by a figure dressed as tiger. A figure that, after inspection, turned out to be none other than Ron who had decided to do away with his glamour altogether once he had her attention. She braced herself for whatever vile thing he had planned to say, but it didn’t come.

“Y-you look really good Hermione,” was what he stammered out instead, leaving Hermione in a state of shock. She had known Ron for a long time, and one thing that she had learned early on when they were fighting was that whenever it came to be time for him to get over himself and apologize, awkward compliments were how he did it. The most famous of which had to be the one he had given Harry after the first Tri-Wizard task. She could hardly dare to hope.

“Thank you, Ron. No lace on the robes this time, then?” she said tentatively. From there it would go either one of two ways. He’d either laugh at the small joke and their family could get put back together again, or he would take offense and it would be another few weeks of anger and resentment before he was ready to try again.

She had just caught a glimpse of a self-deprecating smile on his face and her heart had begun to soar, before the Patil twin’s stomped over and ruined absolutely everything with one simple question.

“Is it true that you promised your last dance to _Malfoy?!_ ” they asked in unison.

Her eyes flew to Ron’s, and any trace of that smile she had seen was gone, replaced instead by blank eyes that turned an odd shade of blue at the mention of Malfoy’s name. Followed by anger.

“Well, is that true, Hermione?” he demanded.

Hermione gulped before answering, “Yes, I have actually. He asked not long ago.”

Ron had now turned an angry purple, and the Patil twin’s tittered at her, disgusted. A crowd was beginning to clear around them and Hermione knew it wasn’t long before this whole scene was the center of attention.

“Bloody Hell Hermione! And here we thought that you could sink no lower! Consorting with the likes of _him_?! Do you realize how many people are dead because of that filth? That disgrace?” Padma shouted at her.

She seemed to have run out of breath in her indignation, but her sister hadn’t and Ron still seemed to be too angry to even form words, though the expression on his face promised trouble. People had gathered while Padma had shouted, Lisa Turpin and several others had gone to stand with Ron and the twin’s, and Hermione no idea if there was anyone standing behind her at all.

“We had wondered whether or not it had been a mistake that you were sorted into Slytherin but it seems not. I would even go so far as to wonder what side you were really on in the war, if it weren’t for your blood. It was always said that there had to have been a traitor high up, otherwise the other side wouldn’t have been able to get past the Hogwarts shields as quickly as they did,” Parvati spat at her. Hermione could hear the blood rushing through her ears, and she felt her glamour drop from her face.

How _dare_ she?!

But they weren’t done. They had one last parting dig, as the crowd of supporters behind them kept growing larger.

“Not good enough for Gryffindor, just a stupid piece of filthy, slimy, Slytherin _trash- WHO KNOWS WHAT MATTER OF NASTY THINGS WHO HAD TO HAVE DONE TO LAND YOURSELF THERE?”_

Perhaps it had only done so in Hermione’s ears, but it had seemed as if that last line had been magnified by one thousand. And she had had enough. She wanted nothing more to curse them, but she was so full of anger that she felt tears forming in her eyes and damned if she would give them the bloody satisfaction!

“YES!” she screamed, “I _am_ a Slytherin and I am _BLOODY WELL PROUD TO BE ONE!”_

And before she did something she could regret later, or allow them to see the tears stream down her face, Hermione fled from the hall, using her wand to force people out of her way.  She was quick, but not quick enough to miss hearing what Ron had shouted.

“Go ahead and run you cowardly Slytherin whore!”

**At the Masque, Draco:**

His wand was out and about to hex Weasley within an inch of his life, but Potter had gotten there first. His fist connected with Weasley’s snarling face with enough force to send the bloke flying backwards and land with a rather satisfying crunch on the floor.

Potter stood panting but sounded quite calm when he addressed the redheaded monstrosity, “I warned you to stay away from her.”

When Potter turned around he looked downright dangerous, and Draco fleetingly wondered just where in the name of Salazar all of the professor’s had suddenly disappeared to, for there seemed to be absolutely no adults anywhere in the Hall.

“Now listen up, all of you! Because I am sick and tired of the lot of you damning someone whom you all owe your bloody lives too! Hermione Granger is the reason that each and every one of you is standing here, alive.” No one seemed to be breathing, though he noticed that several people had their wand’s aimed at certain individual’s- Little Red was mere seconds away from murdering her brother, it looked like.

Draco felt as though someone was scratching at his mind.

“You all want to know what she did to land herself in Slytherin?! She did what she fucking had to! She killed, and she tricked, and she schemed, and she outsmarted Voldemort himself several times over! You all have known me for how long now? Is there a single soul in here who honestly believes that I, or Ron, would have lived long enough to even see the Final Battle if it weren’t for her? And don’t even get me started on you, mate,” Potter snarled at Weasley, who had groaned at the sound of his name.

“She did the things that no one else could, she-“

Draco was unable to listen to any more of Potter’s rather impressive angry lecture because once again there was a scratching at his mind, although this time it was followed by a voice.

_I thought that we had a deal, Mr. Malfoy._

He knew that voice… could it possibly… but no…

He was so distracted that he hadn’t even noticed that Potter had gone on from listing what all Granger had done in the war to how Draco himself had saved them all.

_Yes, Mr. Malfoy, it is I, the Sorting Hat. You see, it is a rather well-kept secret that once an individual places me upon their head just once I will forever be able to reach them. Now, as I said, I thought we’d had a bargain, Mr. Malfoy. You’ve been skirting the line all year, don’t think I haven’t noticed._

Draco shook himself. Was he honestly being lectured by the Sorting Hat? Was he imagining all of this? He shook himself, finally returning to the area around him to notice that Finnegan was now confronting the chits in front of him.

“- she’s dead. Lavender’s dead and there is not a damn thing you can do about it, but you think _this_ is what she died for? You’re supposed to have been her friends. You knew her better than that. You’re a disgrace to her-“

_DRACO ABRAXAS MALFOY IT IS TIME FOR YOU TO DO YOUR JOB!_

And then Draco mind was filled with knowledge, and he shouted a curse into the air, gaining the attention of those around him. Draco reached forward, grabbed Potter, and pushed him into a run out of the Hall, grabbing others as he went.

“Were needed elsewhere,” Draco said at they all ran, slipping and tripping in their costumes through the maze of halls.

**Running, Ginny:**

It should have been odd, the way that they were all sprinting after Malfoy through the hallways without even asking for so much and explanation. Part of it could have been because they were all so full of angry adrenaline that their bodies were operating quicker than their minds were, and mostly, Ginny thought, it was because they already knew.

She would have to ask, eventually, how it was Malfoy knew where to go, but when they heard shouts up ahead, Ginny’s thoughts had been confirmed. How could they all have been so stupid?

Nicolai and his little gang had to have been waiting ages in the halls leading towards Slytherin, hoping for one of them to make a mistake- and they had. Hermione had stormed out of the Hall alone and they had all been too angry to even register the fact properly in their heads. Some corner or her mind wondered if this had been planned by Nicolai and the Patil twins- but as she drew level with the fight, Ginny had no more room for such thoughts.

In the center of the corridor stood Hermione, moving so fast and spinning in circle after circle as she fought off all seven of them at once, the colors of her dress making her looks like a cyclone amid a sea of flying spells.

It was impossible to tell whether or not she had been injured, as Ginny threw herself into the fray.

The whole thing was madness, chaos, but since she, Harry, Pansy, Dean, Neville, Daphne, Theo and Blaise had all followed after Malfoy, the others were outnumbered and the fight was over rather quickly. But not before injuries were sustained, Nicolai and the others had been fighting with Dark magic, that much was obvious.

Harry was down, so were Neville and Hermione. Dean was bleeding but at least he was still on his feet. For a moment Ginny was torn between whom to run to, but then Harry got to his feet and the decision was made for her. Unfortunately, she wasn’t the first one to get to when Hermione was down on the ground.

Malfoy was hovering over her, holding her up and talking to her, Ginny could only just make out what it was he was whispering down at her.

“Come on, Granger, you still owe me a dance,” he murmured softly, and after casting enervate several times, Hermione woke and was helped to her feet.

Out of the corner of her eye, Ginny could see Daph holding Neville’s hand as she cleaned him up, and Harry’s reached out to grab hers.

Holding his fingers between her own, Ginny bound all seven of Hermione’s attackers with rope.

**Hospital Wing, Hermione:**

She was livid.

Not only had she been attacked _twice_ that night, once verbally and once physically, but she had been silly enough to get herself knocked unconscious as well. To make matters worse Madam Pomfrey was tittering over her shoulder like a bird, trying to get her to take some sleeping potion or another and force her to stay overnight.

What was she, a child? She was too filled with fury and adrenaline that she had no room to be devastated or sad or afraid- all she wanted to do was go back to the dungeons and sleep in her own bed with Crookshanks curled up at her feet. He’d rejoined her at Hogwarts when her parents had gone into hiding at Pansy’s, and she was loathe to go even one more night sleeping without him if she didn’t have to.

Hermione had been arguing with the nurse for a few moments, refusing to do any of what the nurse suggested. Finally she snapped, causing the unsuspecting nurse to jump about a foot into the air.

“FINE! I will take the potion but I am _not_ sleeping here. Send me with an escort if you must, but I refuse to do it!”

In the end, both Pansy and Malfoy had to agree to escort Hermione back to the dungeons, but not before she gulped down a sleeping potion where Madam Pomfrey could witness her doing it.

On the long, eerily silent walk to the dungeons, Hermione’s rage was slowly being replaced by exhaustion. She knew that she should really thank Malfoy and Pansy for coming to her, unfortunately much needed, rescue, but when she opened her mouth to do so, all that came out was a yawn. She could barely remember entering her rooms and didn’t bother with getting out of her dress before collapsing onto her mattress.

It was all she could do to kick off her shoes before Hermione had fallen fast asleep.

**###Head’s Dorm, Draco:**

Did Little Red not know that Granger had been given a potion to make her fall asleep almost instantly? Pansy had come and gone, off to make sure that Dean was doing alright, though since the lad was with that Irish atrocity in Ravenclaw he wasn’t too sure how she would work that one out.  His mind was unable to give that his full thought, however because Draco’s eyes were glued to Granger’s door- and how long had it been since he’d blinked?

He was sitting at the top of the stairs on the little walkway that separated their two rooms, and he was sweating.

After all that had happened Draco’s nerves were strung so tightly that he honestly had no idea how they would handle it if Granger started screaming again. Maybe the potion was Dreamless Sleep? If that was the case it might explain why Little Red hadn’t shown up, obviously she wouldn’t be needed and then she could remain at Scarhead’s side in the Hospital without another worry. His heartbeat eased as he realized that this must be the case.

But as Draco stood to enter his own room, he heard it. A scream.

Frozen in his tracks, his heart pounded with fear and adrenaline. The Hat’s words echoed inside his head over and over and over again, slowly driving him insane. Or quickly. He couldn’t really tell the passage of time very well at the moment.

Now he could hear her crying.

Where the _fuck_ was Weasley?

Draco began pacing back and forth; running his fingers through his hair and pulling at it as he muttered utter nonsense to himself. At this point he couldn’t figure out whether or not he was trying to convince himself to stay where he was or if he was bracing himself to charge into her room and wake her up.

Merlin, but everything was all mixed up in his head. It was as though all of the conflicting emotions and thoughts and morals that had been warring themselves out inside his mind had finally come to a head in this very moment- he was lost, and drowning, and how long had it been since he’d last taken a breath?

Draco had no idea who he was anymore, what he was- had he ever been his own man…? He had no idea what he believed in or didn’t believe in and his emotions were in complete and utter chaos because honestly, every emotion he felt he doubted to his very core to the point that it was almost as if he were afraid of himself, but no. He would have to know who he was and what he stood for in order for that to happen, and the only thing Draco was certain of was that he wasn’t certain of anything. He was being crushed, crushed by his own foolishness and confusion and he just didn’t _understand._

He didn’t understand how someone could go from being a lesser being, to a person, to an individual who seemed to stand at the crux of every single problem that Draco was having within himself. Things he once hated and disbelieved in were attempting to break through the surface and claim him as their champion, while notions he’d had since he was a child had begun to make less sense each and every day- but where did that leave him?

Granger was sobbing now, and so was Draco, and **_where the fuck was Weasley?!_**

Fear was clouding everything now, fear laced with self-hatred and insecurity and he couldn’t understand why he was even afraid! It’s not as if he was the trapped inside their worst memory, forced to face it and relive it, night after night, wondering what you could have done to stop it and why you deserved it at all and when would the pain ever just _stop-_

But that’s just it, he realized as his hands began to shake. The night that Granger was trapped in, her greatest nightmare was his too. Something broke in him, then. Like a great wave crashing down and overwhelming everything around it.

This realization hadn’t had very long to sink in before Granger let loose her loudest scream yet, and Draco was flying. He raced to Granger’s door and shoved it open, too gone in his thoughts to close it, and moved to the side of the bed where Granger was thrashing and sobbing and deep somewhere within it was as if another wave had broken, though he didn’t notice it then.

Draco reached out to her shoulders and shook her awake, frantic and completely out of his mind at this point.

When she woke she fought, screaming, “No! No! I didn’t take- _I didn’t take it I swear!_ ”

Draco sat down next to her calling, “Granger, it’s me, Granger you’re fine, HERMIONE!” he shouted.

The use of her first name shocked her enough to get her to pay attention to her surroundings, to realize that she was no longer trapped within her nightmare, to notice that Draco Malfoy was in her bed with one hand placed on her shoulder and the other cupping her face and wiping away her tears even though his own still flowed freely.

What she thought of this scene, he didn’t know, but the relief on her face was enough to remove nearly all of the weight that had been crushing Draco to bits only just moments before. Before he knew what was happening, His arms were full of a crying girl as she held onto him as though her life depended on it. Closing his eyes, Draco held Hermione close and, when it became apparent that she had no intention of letting him go at any point this century, he gently shifted tem so that they could both lie down comfortably. As soon as he settled, most of Hermione’s weight found itself on top of Draco, with her head on his chest, to fall asleep.

**Head’s Dorm, Ginny:**

She’d made it there in time to see an utterly distraught Draco Malfoy charge into Hermione’s room, and, on a hunch, allowed the scene to play out. The results were… interesting, and Ginny was once again thankful that she had Harry’s cloak.

Ginny bit her lip, debating.

It was time for Malfoy to answer for certain things and she had no intention of waiting much longer, but somehow it just didn’t seem fair to rip them apart right now. So, instead, Ginny closed Hermione’s door behind her and crossed over to Malfoy’s room to sleep for the night.

What Harry didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him.


	27. Chapter 27

**October 31** **st**

**Minerva:**

"Minerva, might I ask just where in Circe's name all of the Professor's and supposed chaperones were earlier this evening?!" Poppy's face was white with rage at she glared at each Professor in turn. "In case it has escaped all of your attentions, there was an attack this evening!"

So many questions had been asked from the moment Minerva had ordered everyone to leave the Masque up until now, and she had answers for absolutely none of them. Thankfully it was at that moment that Severus and Albus  _finally_  returned to their portraits and took all of the attention off of her.

"I'm afraid that would be my doing, Poppy," Albus stated quietly. "I do believe that it is time a few things be discussed, namely that what happened tonight was completely necessary."

Blood rushed in Minerva's ears, drowning out the startled gasps that sounded throughout the room. She had to fight to keep her voice even as she spoke.

"Surely you do not mean to tell me that you called us all here  _knowing_  what would happen if we came. That you were intentionally putting my students in danger."  _Again._

The very idea was preposterous! Such a thing could ever happen, well, no more than it had in the past, and to think that even as a portrait Albus would still be as meddlesome in the school's affairs was simply-

"Yes, that would be exactly what I am saying. And such matters bring us to the topic at hand."

It felt as though the air had been knocked out of her lungs.

"Surely," Albus continued on, despite the fact that the entire staff was now gaping at him in horror. "You all have noticed that things are not at all as they seem, this year. That something is going on, yet again, with our students in the center of it?"

Silence. Complete silence. Words had been robbed from their mouths, rage replaced with utter shock. This simply could not be happening, not to them. Not again.

"You have all been gathered here tonight because it has been decided that the time has come that intervention must no longer be allowed. The entirety of your involvement with the students will now be reduced to thus: teaching them, advising them on future careers, patching them up after battle and that will be all. You are not to intervene in their fights. You are not to do more than enforce standard rules. In fact, the less time you spend around them, the better. I understand that this may seem strange, but you all must understand that things are in motion that have not been awoken in thousands of years, and that the events of this year may end up being far more important than those of years' past."

It took a moment for her senses to come back to her, but when they did the incredulous statement left her lips as soon as it appeared in her mind.

"You've lost your bloody mind!"

The rest of her staff was nodding in agreement, and Pomona in particular was heaving slightly, as though it was taking all of her effort not to throttle Albus' portrait.

"You cannot honestly expect to sit there and expect me to take orders from a portrait! Orders that would put the students in danger! If we don't monitor them and step in where we can why- why many of them might try to kill each other off! And succeed!"

Her mind was racing, thinking back to the attack on Dean Thomas and how close he was to death when he had been brought in. How many more events such as that one would occur if they were to do as they were asked? It would not do. She would not stand for it.

"The students must be allowed to operate unhindered! This is non-negotiable. There are things in motion that you do not understand and-"

She'd had enough.

"OF COURSE THERE ARE THINGS THAT I DO NOT UNDERSTAND! That is  _always_  the case with you, isn't it?! How many lives could have been saved in the War had you shared your knowledge, Dumbledore? Just why is it do you think that you can withhold knowledge at the expense of others? That you can hold it above our heads and expect us to run about following your orders without question? Well, not anymore! "

"Minerva, hold your tongue-"

"NO, Severus, I will NOT hold my tongue, not any longer! " She paused to take a breath and noted that many of those around her were staring at her in shock. Albus had been a man she trusted above all others, and never had she called him into question. But here he was, ordering her to stand back and do nothing? "Now see here, the job of the portraits of this castle is to serve the current Headmaster or Headmistress, and I will not take orders from you! Especially not when the welfare of my students is called into question! You are  _not_  the one in control here, Albus."

Poppy was beaming at her proudly, and several of the others were nodding along with her argument, when the temperature of the room seemed to drop several degrees. The portraits on the wall were glaring at her intensely, obviously on Albus' side, but he was the only one Minerva had eyes for. He was smiling down at her, his blue eyes twinkling in pity.

"You're right, Minerva. I am not the one in charge here," he said softly. "Unfortunately, neither are you."

And with that, his gaze turned upwards, and when Minerva followed it she discovered just why exactly the room had gone so cold.

For right above them, clogging the ceiling and lining the walls, going up as far as the eyes could see, were hundreds of the Hogwarts Ghosts, each staring at her with eyes as cold and steely as a blade. Minerva shuffled her feet and gaped in shock, was he implying…?

Sir Nicolas de Mimsy Porpington was the one to float down and meet her stare for stare, his mood more somber than any she'd ever caught him in.

"I regret that it has come to this, Minerva, but Hogwarts has been in this state for far too long, and it is past time that things are put to rights. The opportunity presented itself; ancient things have been awoken, and charge of this school has been given to The Ghosts. You will either follow the terms laid out before you, or we will be forced to remove you from the school."

She felt helpless; she hadn't the power to expel all of the ghosts from the castle- it took more than enough to simply get rid of one! But this… it couldn't be true! It wasn't right! Desperate, she looked to her colleagues, but there she found nothing but resigned faces and helpless stares to match her own. Minerva could feel tears clogging her throat- she hadn't felt so broken since she was a young woman in love. Beaten, her shoulders slumped and her eyes fell to the floor.

In a flash the ghosts were gone, and moments after the portraits were emptied as well. Probably off to discuss multiple more ways to try and harm those she had sworn to protect. Silently, she nodded at her grey-faced staff and watched as they exited as well- leaving her alone to her thoughts.

Or so she had presumed.

A book flew off of it shelf and landed with a loud thud on the desk in front of her. Minerva startled with a yelp and looked up to see the somber faces of Fred Weasley and… Peeves. What in Godric's name was going on?

"'Ello there Professorhead," Peeves said as he bowed- and not an ounce of mockery was to be found in the motion. She could feel her eyebrows furrow in a questions that she didn't dare to ask out loud.

Before she managed to get the courage to do so, Peeves was at his mischief again, changing the colors of the House Banners flying on the wall. Ravenclaw badge now sat on a golden field while Hufflepuffs badge floated among a sea of blue. Gryffindor's and Slytherin's banners were swapped as well- exactly the way the House tables had been in the Great Hall. Once Peeves had finished his handiwork he vanished, leaving Minerva alone with the ghost of the youngest Weasley.

"What is the meaning of this?" She asked, her voice defeated and no more than a whisper. Seeing his form still pained her- more proof of her failure to protect those she cared about.

A sad little smile crossed his features. "I've never been much for taking orders, myself. So I'll tell it to you just like I told it to Hermione- I'm just in the nature of leaving clues around, for when the time comes. Happy Reading."

With that, he vanished, leaving Minerva staring at mis-matched banners and  _Hogwarts, A History_  sitting on her desk.


	28. Chapter 28

**November 1** **st**

**Draco:**

Draco woke up to the feeling that something was smothering his head and, after a good deal of spluttering and very manly flailing, it was discovered that the source of it was that bandy-legged ginger monstrosity that has recently re-entered their lives. Why it was that Granger insisted on accepting every ginger in the world into her life he didn't-

Granger.

With a start, Draco's sleepy mind caught up to the situation. To the petite girl still held securely in his arms, to the fact that he had not woken up in his own bed. Draco looked down at the tangled heap of limbs and fabric that was he and Hermione, smiling softly at how her hair was even more a bushy wild beast than normal. It was odd, seeing her like this.

Save for her scars, it was almost as if the war had never happened- her features were relaxed in the softest of ways, forming an expression that spoke only of innocence. Parts of himself ached that Draco didn't realize existed, and he was struck with the realization that he honestly and truly needed to get out of that bed as soon as was humanly possible before what little was left of his sanity fled him entirely.

He moved slowly, delicately, slowly shifting Granger until she was lying on her side and he was free to move. Immediately he missed the soft warmth that she had graced him with, and dimly he wondered whether or not he would ever get a chance to experience it again. Draco opened and closed the door softly, so as not to wake her after going to all this effort to keep the chit asleep, when he came to the realization that the door had definitely been open when he'd raced to Granger's side the night before.

Had it been Fred? Draco groaned at the prospect as he shuffled towards his bedroom. Salazar help him if any of the Weasley's ever caught wind of what had happened last night, Draco mused as he opened his door. If that were to happen then he would never again have a moment's pea-

The sight of Little Red sprawled over his mattress sent his heart rabbiting in his chest. Acting on instinct, Draco grabbed his rumpled dress robes that he was still wearing form the night before, lifted them up off of the ground, and attempted to turn and flee. However before he reached his door, a blast of light flew past him and slammed the door shut, accompanied by a disgruntled and sleep-laden voice.

"Don't even think about it, Malfoy. It's time we had ourselves a chat, you and I."

Bloody hell. This was going to end with his insides as his outsides, or bogey's flying at his head, he just knew it.

**Hospital Wing, Daphne:**

She had come back down to the wing just as early as Madame Pomfrey might allow, eager to see if he had woken up yet. The night before, the mediwitch had laid Neville down into a healing sleep in the hopes of making the whole process a lot less painful. Daphne hadn't actually heard what was wrong with him- whether a curse or jinx had caught him in the skirmish last night, or if he was still suffering from the aftereffects of the potion that had splashed him accidently.

When she rounded the corner into the ward, Madame Pomfrey was nowhere to be seen, so, holding back a yawn, Daphne made her way over to Neville's cot and sat down by it, awaiting his return to consciousness.

As she waited, Daphne used the quiet to think back on everything that had occurred so far that year. In a way she felt as though this all had to be a dream- it was all too ridiculous to be thought of as anything else.

When she'd first read her Hogwarts letter that explained what would be done to the students, Daphne had rebelled against it, thinking that no matter where it was they all were put nothing could possible tear them apart. But now, looking on it, it seemed as if she was closer with Little Red than with Pansy- she hadn't spoken to Millie in ages, either. And it wasn't as if she was avoiding them, per se. She simply felt uneasy around them, particularly the ones in her old House. Then again, after the reaction to Daphne's re-sorting it was only logical that a bit of distance be put between herself and the Slytherins.

Right?

Or maybe that meant she should have held onto them tighter? She had no clue, other than the fact that Theo had done the same as she. She could tell that he was uneasy around the others as she did, but none of it made sense. The feeling was foreign and seemed to operate completely independently of Daphne, as if the mistrust was someone else's, but not hers. Speaking of mistrust, Daphne looked down on the sleeping form of Neville Longbottom.

From where she sat he seemed perfectly fine, almost completely at peace, sleeping as he always did. She hadn't any idea why she had come, it's not like she had forgiven him, but when she had woken up this morning it was as if her body had moved of its own volition. As has become her habit, Daphne tugged down her left sleeve to ensure that none of the Mark showed underneath it. It would forever be her greatest shame, and quite frankly she believed that all that had happened to her so far that year was her own well deserved punishment. Neville came from a different world, he was good, and she didn't deserve that.

When she had finally resolved to leave, had stood up and was ready to turn, it became clear that Neville had woken up.

"Come to finish me off, then?"

His eyes were still blinking away sleep, and his movements were sluggish as he drew himself up to a seated position.

"Should you be moving so soon?" Daphne asked as she shifted her weight from foot to foot, suddenly unsure in her own skin.

"Well I'm not sure if I should be defending myself or not. I feel like after everything that's happened, going out lying down in the hospital wing would just be a bit anticlimactic."

Her hands balled into fists and her face twisted into what would have been a glare if her face hadn't also twisted into an echo of grief. Steeling herself, Daphne brushed herself off and made once again to storm from the wing in outrage, but once again his voice stopped her and ripped the wind from her sails.

"Daph- I'm- I didn't mean that, alright? Just, sit down for a moment, please?" He sounded so timid when he asked; it was almost reminiscent of the Neville before the War.

As if against her will her body returned to the seat she'd been in before he had awoken.

"Why are you here?" he asked. "I thought you hated me now."

"Funny, I was under the impression that you were the one who hated me."

Merlin, her voice sounded like she was choking on glass. The was a long beat of silence before he answered-

"No, I don't hate you. I just- did you get me with that potion on purpose?"

The look on his face was indecipherable, though if she was forced to pick an emotion it represented, she would have to say hurt.

"No, it was meant only for the twins, I swear!" she rushed to respond. Neville nodded somberly before he took a deep breath, reached out and grabbed Daphne's left arm and pulling up her sleeve to reveal her shame.

Squawking in despair, she tried to pull away, but Neville managed to silence her with a look before he returned his gaze to the ugly black lines on her forearm.

"It caught me off guard, your Mark- especially since I'd never really thought about any of this from the other side before. And that's not right, it's not. Harry tried to explain something to me once over the summer, he went on saying that a bit of the wisest advice he'd ever gotten was that 'the world isn't divided between good people and Death Eaters'. I'd never really thought about that until… well, until you showed me. But it's true. That mark, it doesn't mean what I used to think it meant. Before, it was a way to tell to my enemy. A symbol that represented the monster that tore apart my family and my life. But now? Now it's just another scar. Proof that you survived, you know?" he explained softly.

Daphne couldn't speak, couldn't breathe, couldn't think.

"I didn't simply go hunting anyone with a Mark this summer, you know. I only hunted down the killers who had escaped, who were still attacking innocents in their rage about how the war had turned out. I refuse to feel ashamed of that, because it some of the best work I've ever done…" Neville still hadn't met her eyes, instead directing his speech to her forearm. "I know that you think I'm a monster for that, but-"

"Out of the two people in this room there's only one monster, Nev, and it isn't you," she whispered. But that whisper may as well have been a shout in the silent echoing wing. Neville's grip on her arm tightened as he finally looked up into her eyes, a fire burning in the depth of his own.

"Now you listen to me Daphne Elira Greengrass. I have met monsters, I have fought them and feared them and beaten them. I have watched them torture for pleasure and gaze upon the blood of people fallen as if it were the most beautiful sight in the world and heard their laughter mix in with the screams of children. And you? You are many things, Daphne, but you are not a monster."

He brought her arm up to her face and forced her to look at the inky black symbol that rested there.

"This Mark? It means nothing other than the fact that you did what you had to do in order to survive. It does not define you! What defines you is your independence, your confidence, your kindness when you don't think anyone is looking. The way you still love your sister with all your heart even though she treats you like dung. The way that your eyes change color slightly when you smile and that your laugh is probably the most obnoxious laugh I've ever heard. You're no monster, Daphne," Neville slowly put down her arm and returned to his spot on the bed.

"You're incandescent."

At his final two words, Daphne could feel the tears beginning to pool in her eyes. There was so much emotion wafting through her that she couldn't hope to parse it all, so she was left gazing wonderingly at the man on the bed before her. And there was no doubt that this was a man, a man that none had thought would come from the boy he had once been. Here he sat calm and confident and unashamed of his words when many would be blushing or nervously fiddling. And though she had many things she wanted to say, wanted to ask, what came out instead was:

"What happened to you Neville? You used to be this timid stammering image of a boy, and you're… well, this."

A smile graced his face as Neville relaxed back against his pillows.

"There's a lot to be learned from Harry Potter if you actually pay attention to the bloke. Growing up I always thought that he was so brave, always confident and never afraid. Until one day I noticed that his hands shook, even while he was giving a rather inspiring speech. From that day on I looked, really looked at him whenever he was doing something that the rest of us would mark as brave. Bloke was terrified! That's when I learned that people need someone who can do the big things, say the things that no one else was brave enough to say. And that Harry only ever did it because someone had to and they already expected it to be him, so why the bloody hell not? 'Why not'. That's perhaps the best lesson the man has ever taught me- which is really saying something considering the DA- and he never even meant to teach it.

And then came last year, and Harry wasn't around anymore. Someone needed to do something, to fight back, to keep people from giving up entirely, but they all thought you needed to be some grand hero in order to do them, and no one stepped up. So I figured, why not me? And it worked. Since then, it's better just to go for it, because if you can't come up with a damn good reason, there really isn't one. You don't have to be a hero in order to act like one, or be brave to act brave."

The way that Neville shrugged that off bothered her, how dare he sell himself short? After everything he'd done, he deserved to pat himself on the back. Her voice was hard and serious when she spoke up again.

"You are a hero, Neville. And don't you dare think otherwise."

For the first time that morning, Neville's face was guarded before he broke the silence that followed Daphne's declaration.

"Daphne, you never answered. Why did you come here?"

Smiling softly, Daphne reached out and grabbed Neville's hand before answering.

"Why not?"

**Ginny:**

Thoroughly enjoying the look on Malfoy's face, Ginny took her time arranging herself so that she was seated against his pillows- which were ungodly soft- and placing her wand rather delicately in her lap. She looked at him calmly, deciding whether or not she wanted to break the silence or to let him stew. The choice, however, was taken from her and Malfoy drew himself up to his full height and sneered down at her in a manner so haughty that Ginny wanted to smack it from his face.

"Just what the bloody hell do you think you're doing in my bed, Weasley?" he snarled, his pale face twisted.

No. Just no. This was not going to work if this is how he is going to behave.

"Well, Malfoy, I had considered climbing in with Hermione but that would have been rather difficult considering there was already someone there," she said in a sugary sweet voice, a smile like poison on her face.

What? It was too early for her to deal with nastiness with grace and tact. If this was how Malfoy wanted to play, then this is how they would play.

"So, what, the logical conclusion was to invade my room instead? I'd love to know how you managed to work that one out!"

Merlin. They would be going around in circles all morning at this rate.

"Yes, well, speaking of logic, I'd love to know just what it was that led you to believe you needed to storm into Hermione's room and climb into her bed!"

Malfoy narrowed his eyes at her and struggled to find something to say. His breathing was heavy, and Ginny could tell that he was reluctant to part with his anger. He was acting as though he were a trapped mouse that Crookshanks had caught in a corner. To fill the silence, Ginny began pointing out all of his odd behavior.

"As a matter of fact, there is quite a lot I would like to know your logic behind. Why did you come and inform me of Hermione's nightmares? Why were you sitting so close to her on the couch? What reason could you possibly have to ask her for a dance? How the bloody fuck did you know she was being attacked and where? And, most importantly, why did you go and climb into her-"

"BECAUSE YOU NEVER CAME!"

Malfoy's interruption caught Ginny off guard and it took her a moment to really understand his response. Malfoy himself was red in the face and running his finger through his already mussed hair, his dress robes from the night before trailing after him as he paced by the foot of the bed, all nervous energy and jerky aborted movements.

"Excuse me?" she asked.

"I waited! I kept waiting and waiting for you to come, but you didn't! Where the fuck where you?! You  _know_  what happens when she sleeps alone, you  _knew_  that Pomfrey had given her a sleeping potion, so just what was it exactly that kept you from getting to her side as soon as possible?!" he shouted at her, an accusing finger pointed in her direction.

"I-"

"She was screaming! She's been through so damn much and she was screaming bloody murder and distraught and you  _didn't come!_  So what was I supposed to do? Just cast a silencing charm on the chit and go on my merry way?!"

"Well, yes, actually."

"I-you-what?"

All at once it seems that the anger abandoned Malfoy and in its wake left genuine confusion. He had stopped mid-pace and stared at her. To be honest, Ginny wasn't sure what it was that was so confusing for him.

"You, Draco Malfoy, would have ordinarily done absolutely nothing about the situation and ignored it. Hermione is a muggle-born, an ex-Gryffindor, and basically represents everything that you hate. So, yes, based on all of that information you shouldn't have cared nor done anything. So why do you?"

"Why…why do I what?"

"Why do you care?"

"I'm not… I don't…"

He looked lost, Ginny decided. Thinking about it, Malfoy had been looking lost for a while now, as if the rug had been pulled out from under him. Right in that moment it seemed as if he was at war with himself over something, until he let out a loud groan and exclaimed,

"I promised the bloody Sorting Hat, alright?"

What.

"I beg your pardon?"

**Draco:**

He had no idea why he was telling Ginevra Weasley of all people, but the only rationalization he could find what that he needed to talk to someone, anyone, and she was there. So spoke. Draco fell backwards onto his bed next to a Weasley and spilled out everything about that ruddy hat and what it had done to him, how he had been forced to acknowledge that Hermione was indeed a human, and how the Hat had invaded his mind the previous night and told him where to go. When he was finished there was a moment or two of silence before the chit sitting next to him spoke up- and he didn't dare to look at her.

"…well, okay that explains a few things at least, but it doesn't explain your behavior."

He should have known he wouldn't be getting off of this easily.

"How does it not explain absolutely everything?" he asked petulantly.

"Well, it doesn't explain why you helped Fred. And looking out for and protecting Hermione doesn't mean trying to dance with her, or being kind to her, and it sure and hell doesn't mean flirting with her."

"I do not-"

"Malfoy, don't even start with me. To be honest I haven't ruled out that this is all a giant plot, that you're acting like a human being in order to try and do something nasty to us all later. You haven't been acting like yourself; it's as if you're a completely different person. It's like I can't even recognize who you are anymore," she said.

"Yeah well, neither do I," he whispered, hoping that if he said it low enough she wouldn't hear. But she did, of course she did.

"What do you mean, Malfoy?"

"You've slept in my bed; I think you can call me Draco at this point."

"Stop deflecting."

Draco groaned and ran his hands over his face before allowing them to flop onto his mattress once more. He stared up at his canopy and thought about everything he went through last night, how he had broken all at once and said to hell with it all and went to Granger. He felt like that now, like he was on the cusp of another breakdown. The only difference was that this time he wasn't alone.

"I feel like I'm drowning. I'm questioning everything I've ever thought I've known about myself and everything anyone has ever told me. Nothing makes sense anymore; I don't know how to operate in this new world… I… I don't hate anymore, liked I used to. I don't see the point. Not when I was wrong about everything. The promise with that ruddy hat started it all but it's… it's not just that anymore. I can't- ugh, I don't even bloody know what I'm saying!"

He closed his eyes and silently wished that all of this will just go away, because how was this his life? He was miserable on his bed, ruining his dress robes, having a heart to heart with Ginny Weasley of all people.

"You're not very good about talking about feelings are you?" Little Red asked.

It took every ounce of his willpower not to roll his eyes.

"Let's just say I've been out of practice for 18 years and leave it at that."

"Quite. Well then, given all of this, I've decided that I am no longer coming down here every night. Hermione can either take her bloody medicine or she can curl up with you, either way this is sure to be entertaining for me."

Draco sat bolt upright and turned to face her, mouth open and ready to argue, but she was already getting out of bed and moving around.

"Nope, listen. You're not changing my mind, so don't even bother. The two of you need a kick in the arse and I've decided I'm the one giving it to you. I'm pants at emotions and dealing with them, she isn't. But don't you go bottling all of this up; it's not healthy to go around being so maudlin all the time."

Draco could do nothing but stare as she gathered her things and made to leave.

"Also, I suppose it's only fair to warn you that I'll be telling Hermione all about how you flew into her room to rescue her, and about all of the other things you've been doing- minus the whole hat nonsense because I don't think it's that important. With that in mind, you'll probably want to not be in the room today… finally! I was waiting for this term to get exciting and it's about bloody time!"

And with that, she was gone from his room and presumably entering Hermione's, leaving a panic stricken Draco in her wake as he questioned all of his life choices up until that point. Then, when what she had said caught up to him, Draco sprinted to the bathroom so that he could shower and disappear before Granger woke up and all proverbial hell broke loose.


	29. Chapter 29

**November 1** **st** **(still)**

**Hermione:**

She had woken up feeling amazing, better than she could remember feeling in such a long time, and with a clearer head than normal. The events of the last night were a bit fuzzy towards the end- she had no idea why it was that she had gone to bed wearing her torn dress robes from the night before and her anger towards Ron was filed away into an iron box that she locked in the darkest corners of her mind.

If she pretended like the vile things said didn't matter, then they wouldn't. Simple as. As far as Hermione was concerned she would never again allow herself to be made to feel like a victim.

Besides, she thought with a smile, she had homework that needed doing.

Hermione was sore as she climbed out of bed and there was a strange scent in the air that she recognized but couldn't place. It was clean, and flavored with vanilla and peppermint. Smelling it made the small smile on her face grow even more. It was comforting, like the smell of her mother's rosebushes. Hermione shook her head at her own folly and began to undress, humming a little tune as she went. It sounded as though Draco was in the shower so she would have to wait, but-

Draco.

There was something there; niggling at the back of her mind, but it kept eluding her so it must not have been that important anyway. Though she did suppose that she ought to apologize for disappearing and getting attacked before she had the chance to dance with him, it was only polite, right?

When she had changed into a comfortable pair of sweats, the pants in a brilliant emerald green that ore with a vicious kind of satisfaction, Hermione turned round to notice that Ginny was standing in her doorway with an inscrutable look on her face. Hermione rushed to speak in order to put off the lecture about wandering the castle alone she was sure to receive.

"Ginny! Oh Gin, last night was just awful but I really don't want to talk about it, alright? I woke up this morning feeling so much better than I have, it's as though I've gotten the first proper night's rest since before the War," Hermione paused for breath before Ginny's raised eyebrow encouraged her to continue. "D'you know what I realized? I've been focused on so much other than what I should be, the only time I've truly spent in the library has been to work on that stupid bit of revenge, and I miss it. I miss my  _books_ , Ginny. I hardly feel myself without them. And now, just thinking about going to the library and spending the day doing homework and studying… well, I'm excited for the first time in ages!"

And it was true. Something had been off, these past months, and it wasn't that she was living in the dungeons. Her studies had taken a backseat to everything else and that just wasn't like her at all. Well, several things had not been like her, if she was going to be thinking honestly. Not paying as much attention to her studies, how she was drawing away from her old friends and becoming closer with those within Slytherin, and how some strange darkness kept trying to tell her that because Ginny and Harry were in different a different House everything was different and they couldn't be trusted, though that last could be down to all the other strangeness, she supposed.

"As lovely as all of that sounds…" Ginny began as she moved to recline against Hermione's bed, "I am curious as to how much you remember from last night. Do you remember having any dreams, at all?"

Dreams? After all that happened after the Masque Ginny was here asking about  _dreams?_

"Well… they were strange…" Hermione said cautiously. "It started like they always do but then, well, actually now that I think about it it's absolutely ridiculous and-"

"That wouldn't be because it involves a certain pale gentleman who looks entirely too delicious wearing only a towel nearly breaking down your door to run in to your rescue, now does it?"

Hermione paused in her efforts to force her hair into a giant messy bun that was actually deserving of the name. She turned wide eyed to stare at Ginny in horror, because how had she known?! Ginny's voice was deadly sweet as she continued,

"And then you ended up crying yourself to sleep in his arms and he stayed over the whole night to ensure that you didn't wake up to screams again? That wouldn't have anything to do with your dream, now did it?"

Hermione was sure that she should try to force some sound out of her mouth, but no matter that she felt her jaw working because her brain was too far drowned in panic to form a sentence. Ginny was grinning now, and twirling Harry's Invisibility cloak around in her hands, looking the picture of mischief.

"You know, hearing how wonderful you felt after waking up this morning makes me feel as though you truly don't need me to come down at night anymore… no, you know I think I'll get some rest in my own tower and, well, you can manage on your own, don't you think?"

"But-"

"And, of course, if something were to happen you could always repeat whatever steps were taken last night, excepting the whole fight in the hallways, of course. Or if you're desperate you could take a dreamless sleep…. Hm. D'you know that you smell quite lovely this morning? Like vanilla and peppermint… I wonder why that is?"

Ginny's eyes were shining with mirth and Hermione could tell that it was taking everything she had not to burst into laughter right then and there. She tried to will her brain to protest but she was too busy dealing with the realization that her dream was reality. Her breathing quickened and it felt as though her eyes may well pop out of her skull.

"I think this term is going to be quite interesting, don't you?" Ginny asked, before wiggling her fingers farewell and disappearing under the Cloak.

The water had long since stopped inside the bathroom, but Hermione couldn't move herself to go into it. Nothing made sense, she had so many questions, and right now she really just needed a cup of tea.

"Winky?" Hermione croaked.

With a loud pop the little elf appeared before her, seemingly overjoyed to have been called. "Is there something Winky can be doing for you Miss?"

"Winky, if you please I need a giant cup of tea, an update on my parents, and for you to deliver a missive to Ms. Parkinson."

"Miss? Of course I is helping you, but is my Mistress being alright?" Winky squeaked, her tiny little hands trembling.

"Yes, I'm alright. Though I really need to sit or I might fall down…."

Winky raced to pull a chair to Hermione and then vanished to make a fresh cup of tea. While she was gone, Hermione remembered that when Malfoy had asked her to dance last night, he had smelled like vanilla and peppermint.

**Pansy, Noon:**

Under absolutely no circumstances did Pansy want to get up from her bed. She simply wasn't going to do it. Last night had been going brilliantly before the Pratil twins and that thrice-cursed ginger monstrosity had gone and ruined everything. Dancing with Dean had been bliss; he had this way of smiling at her with such… warmth. And light. And it was the first time Pansy had truly felt any peace in her mind since what had happened with her parents. That hadn't done anything other than share a few kisses and dances, which was completely fin by her. For the first time in ages Pansy was eager to take things slowly and explore- to ensure that their relationship was more than just being thrilled about doing something that before had been strictly forbidden.

Not that Pansy had any doubts, the fact that Dean had captivated her in the first place was nothing short of a miracle, but she knew that Dean worried about it. If time was what it would take to make him comfortable, well, time was something they had now, didn't they? So long as people kept their noses out of their business and Salazar help any who tried to come between them. Pansy may have confided to Blaise that she was tired of fighting, but that would not prevent her from raining fire upon any who crossed her.

Pansy shoved her head farther into her silky down pillow and groaned with frustration. Dressing Hermione up like a peacock had been a stroke of brilliance on her part, she wouldn't deny. Draco's fascination with the creatures was legend among their circle of friends. From her spot with Dean she had been able to see the whole interaction between the two at the Masque, and she knew that Draco hadn't been able to resist. It would have been perfect, and might have finally gotten the two stubborn pair to actually realize what could be theirs for the taking- as long as they could get over the past.

Which was, admittedly, potentially problematic. The only two people at the school who may have had more history were Draco and Potter, and absolutely none of it, before this year, had ever been good. But if there was anything that Pansy could appreciate, it was a challenge.

…so long as it didn't require ever leaving her bed.

Just as Pansy was contemplating bribing someone to bring her some food, there was an unmistakable pop from the end of the bed.

"Excuse Winky Miss, but my Mistress is sending me to bring you a message," Winky squeaked.

Pansy grumbled but stuck out her hand for the missive, heard the elf disappear, and when she read it gasped aloud,

"Oh bloody buggering hell."

**Goyle, Noon:**

Weasley had refused to leave their dormitory after he'd heard what happened to Granger after she left the Masque. He went to the lavatory, of course, but other than that he'd refused to leave his blankets at all.

Not that Greg could blame him; of course, quite frankly he was impressed that the bloke hadn't decided to drown himself in the toilet. Hoping that it would help, Greg had sent Millie to the Hospital Wing to check and make sure that everyone was alright- though the knowledge that Longbottom, Potter, and Granger had been injured didn't seem to help much. In an attempt to coax the ginger out from his four-poster, Greg had grabbed a few extra things from the Great Hall and brought them back.

"You can' avoid going out there forever, you know, "Greg grunted in Weasley's direction. "But until you do, I've brought you some food. Unless you've decided to starve yourself, that is."

A muffled string of symbols came from Weasley's four-poster that was impossible to decipher.

"Sorry, but I never learned how to speak hermit. You'll have to pop your head out."

A mass of glaring ginger finally appeared from betwixt the curtains, bedraggled and looking like utter shite. "Have you always been this snarky or is it a new development?"

It was Weasley's voice, but Greg didn't think he'd ever heard it this desolate or bleak.

"Yes," he replied. "Now eat something."

Greg levitated the tray over to Weasley and sat back on his bed to wait. When the other lad was finished eating, he fully emerged from his four-poster and sat holding his head in his hands.

"Thanks for that, though I can't say I know why you did it," Weasley murmured in a way that was half statement, half question.

"Because you needed it, because I wanted to. That good enough?"

"S'pose."

Greg watched, and waited. The eerie blue shine that seemed to consume Weasley's eyes didn't seem to be there today like it had been last night, and every other time the man had acted out against his friends. There was nothing there but despair, now, and while Greg felt for him he was quite glad that he was no longer looking into eyes of glass.

The eyes had been popping up everywhere lately, though he didn't suspect that anyone else had noticed. Other people spoke too much, moved too quickly, didn't take any time to truly observe and understand others. Except for maybe Lovegood, but since Greg didn't understand over half of what she said, he wasn't going to confront her about the glass shine that seemed to be spreading though Hogwarts like a virus.

Just the other day, Greg had seen two people who he knew to be best friends engage in what looked very much like a fight to the death over such a simple matter as the fact that they were now in different Houses. Just before the fists had begun flying their eyes were coated in glass, and afterwards, when they were apologetic and confused, the glassiness had gone.

It was odd. Greg had heard about things that the muggles would call "battle fever" and it was said that violence could change the look of a person's eyes, but Greg wasn't so sure that was what was happening.

So gone was he in his own thoughts that it took him a moment to realize that he was being spoken to.

"I don't understand myself. It just doesn't make sense. How could I say those things?! Bloody hell it's not like I actually mean them, and I don't want to hurt anyone, and I swear I thought that I was getting better! I got over the fact that she's a Slytherin, I did, and I was trying to apologize but then the stupid sodding  _Malfoy_  had asked her to dance and… and I felt like I was out of control!"

A surge of alarm raced through him once Greg discovered that Weasley was actually sobbing right in front of him. What was he supposed to do in this situation? It's not like he ever had experience trying to comfort someone, especially no someone who quite seemed to deserve the grief he was feeling. His face contorted in confused, Greg crossed the room and sat a foot away from Weasley on his bed. Greg wasn't good with words, but he hoped that he could communicate silent solidarity well enough.

"I swear I'm going mad, that's the only explanation. Half of my thoughts don't feel like mine anymore, my sister had threatened to disown me, I keep hurting the people I care about, everyone hates me and… and I…. I just- I miss my friends…" Weasley finished with a strangled gasp that slowly turned into sobs that wrecked his entire frame.

He didn't know why Weasley was acting the way he was, or how to fix it, or even how to begin to explain to everyone that he had hurt that he was quite obvious regretting it. Greg didn't understand what he should do, or what could possibly be behind all of this. He didn't understand a great many things.

 _But one thing_  he thought, while squeezing Weasley's shoulder a bit in comfort,  _one thing I understand, is what it feels like to be alone._

**Seamus, 8pm:**

It seemed to Seamus Finnegan that the only place to escape the all-encompassing mass of stupid gits in Hogwarts was the library. Everywhere else was full of people fluttering about, whispering about what had happened between Ron, the twins, and Hermione at the Masque.

If he had to hear about how Harry had punched Ron one more time he was going to sacrifice himself to the Giant Squid.

Because of this he should probably go off and find Dean, just to check in and make sure everything was going alright down in the dungeons, but he figured that Dean would be glued next to Parkinson and didn't really want to interrupt. It wasn't that he was jealous, per se, though Merlin knows he wanted more than anything to have gotten more time with Lavender. Seamus was thrilled that Dean was happy, and he would do all that he could in order to protect that happiness, but he couldn't bear to be around happy couples at the moment. Not while Lavender's scent still clung to every fiber of his being.

So he wandered, listening, silently fuming. It wasn't until he reached the astronomy section of the stacks that he realized he could have been with Dean this whole time since Parkinson was obviously otherwise occupied by Hermione. He allowed his curiosity to guide him and snuck up closer to hear their conversation.

"I'm not picking up another book until you explain to me why you've been keeping me captive in this dusty old library. We can study just as well from the common room, you know."

Hermione put down her book and sighed, "I just don't feel like going back there, alright? Besides, look at all we've gotten done!"

"That was the most pathetic distraction attempt I've ever seen. Come on girl, you can do better than that!"

Seamus couldn't see what it was that Hermione did in response, but whatever it was caused Parkinson to help and level an icy glare in her direction.

"I got out of bed for you! On a Saturday! After such an inhuman sacrifice I demand that you explain to me  _why!_ "

Silence.

"Has Draco done something?"

"What?! No, no of course not? Why in Merlin's name would you say such a thing, what could he have done anyway? It's not as though he's been anything other than weirdly helpful lately, always there, always watching, always interfering when really I am perfectly able-"

"Hermione."

"Shut up and finish your essay."

Why did that conversation sound eerily familiar? The way Hermione was acting... she'd been that way before, but when?

Seamus shook his head and moved away to give the ladies their privacy; somehow he doubted that Dean would be pleased to hear that Seamus had been spying on his girlfriend. But as Seamus made his way back through the stacks he glimpsed a sight of Anthony Goldstein skulking near the restricted section with a group of students that Seamus didn't quite recognize, and however odd a sight that may have seemed it had nothing on the fact that in the next aisle were Peeves and the ghost of Fred Weasley, watching the secret little meeting with avid interest.

Convinced that wherever Peeves was trouble was sure to follow, Seamus began to move more quickly. Though he couldn't shake the feeling that he'd never seen Peeves ever look quite that serious before.

**Draco, 11pm:**

Granger had ten more minutes before he said bugger it all and went up to his bedroom for the night. He'd been down in their private little common room sitting in the squashy green couch by the fire for quite some while now, waiting.

For what, exactly, he wasn't quite sure. Perhaps to see if Little Red would make good on her threat not to come down at nights anymore? None of it made sense to Draco anyway, but quite frankly the tiny ginger witch terrified him enough that he wasn't going to risk crossing her. This was why he was sitting in his soft Acromantula silk shirt and sleep trousers, allowing the image of dancing flames to burn into his vision for all eternity.

Draco was bored. Bored, and a bit nervous. No, not nervous. Nervous made him seem weak, but… well. Granger had reacted to the events of the previous night by, according to Dean and Blaise, kidnapping Pansy and hiding deep within the library. Was that a good sign or a bad? Draco bit his lip and absent mindedly drew small circles over his legs while he wondered if it would even be worth it to stay down there much longer. What was he even supposed to say?

Little Red threatened to abandon you to your nightmares, so would you like to come to bed with me?

Bloody hell, how had his life come to this? Draco blamed the damned Sorting Hat.

At long last the portrait swung open and in stepped his witch, laden down with books and with her tired brown eyes flitting all over the room until she caught sight of him. When she did her eyes widened and she all but flew up the stairs, dropping a book s she went.

Well.

Draco sat there listening to the small noises coming from the Head Girl's room and eventually decided that the bumps were books flying into places and that there was plenty of muffled cursing. Bemused, he watched as Granger apparently tried to summon the book she had dropped through the wall. After the book knocked on her door several times, it finally opened and allowed the book to fly straight into Hermione's face.

He smothered a chuckle at the squeak she made and resumed staring into the flames. Either Granger would come back down the stairs and talk to him, or she would fall asleep and he would come racing in once again to shake her awake. But as the silence began to spread, Draco wondered if she would instead take a third option. What if she took Dreamless Sleep? He was aware that she disliked the potion immensely but it would certainly be preferable to being forced to sleep near him? The more that Draco thought about this the more he disliked it, and the more he felt certain that it was what she would choose.

So long passed that Draco felt certain she had taken the drink, and as he prepared to get up and return to his own rooms, Draco received the shock of his life in the form of Granger leaving her bedroom in plaid trousers and an oversized shirt.

For a moment it felt as though Draco had swallowed his tongue, for he had nothing at all to say. Hermione marched down the stairs, crossed the room, and sat on his couch, though at the far end of it. Once seated, she pulled up her legs and held them close to her chest in as defensive a maneuver as Draco had ever seen. He was too petrified to move, any motion could either make her attack or run away and he wasn't keen to find out which setting she would be on tonight. The air as grown so thick that it could be sliced when she finally spoke up.

"Ginny won't come," she said.

Draco cleared his throat before he could speak, "I see."

"I don't want to talk about it."

What in Merlin's name was that supposed to mean? Draco wasn't a bloody mind reader! But as the silence grew it seemed that was all she had planned to say. He blinked at her for several minutes before realizes that she intended to settle in and sleep right there in front of the fire place.

Draco gave one last longing looked towards his bedroom before summoning a few pillows and a very large blanket for them both. Hermione didn't speak, but she did settle into a slightly more comfortable looking position curled up against her arm rest. Draco attempted to manage the same but ended up simply staring into the fire place and resigning himself to a very long night.

**Minerva, Midnight:**

Just before she had planned to change into her dressing gown and attempt to sleep several owls had pecked at her window, though looking back on it Minerva wished very deeply that she had turned them away. The messages in their beaks contained several very disturbing things, things that Minerva had wanted to put off for longer or perhaps entirely.

The first contained a copy of the Daily Prophet which would go out the next morning, with the blaring headline that 5 Ministry Officials had died during the attacks the past few days and that villages containing the families of notable persons from both sides of the War were still being targeted.

The other three, however, were all letters begging Minerva to send those who were capable and experienced, those who had served in similar missions during the summer, to the Ministry's aide. The procedure would be the same, using medallions that would turn into port keys and send the individual to the scene of whatever battle was taking place, but this was no comfort. Not to the woman who would have to make the decision to endanger her students even further or to withhold help to those who sorely needed it.

The headline of the Daily Prophet seemed to draw all of her attention, as those judging her for her hesitation. Very well.

Once again, Minerva McGonagall would send her students off to war.


	30. Chapter 30

**November 2** **nd** **, Breakfast, Great Hall**

**Hermione:**

Sitting next to Pansy on the bench and trying to act as though nothing was out of the ordinary was nearly impossible. Under normal circumstances, the fact that she had achieved a great night's sleep would be cause for a round of celebration- not dismay. She felt wonderful, almost like a weight had been lifted from her sore and too-thin shoulders, shoulders that told the world quite plainly Hermione hadn't been eating as well as she should have been.

Of course, under normal circumstances, Hermione wouldn't have woken up to find that she was cradled in the warm, protective arms of one Draco Malfoy.

That morning had been nothing if not awkward, and Hermione was unyielding in her attempt to pretend as though it hadn't happened. To pretend that she couldn't feel his eyes on her even as she dallied in scooping up her porridge.

Luckily for her Headmistress McGonagall chose to stand at the podium and address the students before Hermione was forced to acknowledge him.

Hermione's heart turned straight to stone and plummeted into her stomach the moment she looked up and saw the look on the Headmistress' face. It was a cold, disconnected look. A look that had a better place on someone bound for the gallows than upon a Headmistress addressing her students.

Adrenaline began to flow into her veins, and without even realizing it she reached into her robes to hold tight onto her wand.

**Minerva:**

Almost on instinct, Minerva searched the crowd and allowed her eyes to fall onto Potter, Weasley, Granger, Longbottom, Finnegan, and Lovegood…. And saw that each and every one of them had a grip on their wands, as though waiting and poised to shoot if only Minerva would give them a target. Trepidation filled her and she acknowledged that, essentially, that was exactly what she was doing.

"Students, some of you may have noticed that the post is running a bit late this morning. That is my doing. It would seem, unfortunately, that my earlier prediction was correct. The Wizarding World is once again at war, though we do not yet know the face of our foe. I am afraid, that once again I must ask too much of some of you. You know who you are, and what will be required of you. I have, once again, the pendants that will allow you to portkey out of the castle and to a battle location- should you choose to accept them. As a precaution we will also be providing panic amulets, for those who feel the need to take them. The amulet is as such that if the wearer should feel their life threatened, they need only grasp the amulet and think of their safe place. Immediately they will be transported, no matter where from, but only if your life is truly in danger."

The entire Hall was pale faced and grim, and Minerva could feel her resolve breaking. It hadn't even been a year since the last time she addressed this hall with a similar declaration of war. It took all of her resolve to continue her speech, to do so she had to look straight ahead, and not at the students themselves.

"Only the students who participate in the cleanup this summer will be accepted to fight again, because they will require little to no training. Stand now and approach if you are willing, but please know that this is not to be taken lightly, as you well know. The dangers perhaps are doubled…."

But it was useless. When Minerva chanced a glance downward, she saw that all of the students, the chosen, were already standing and moving forward to the dais- looks of acceptance and determination on their faces.

"Very well, then."

McGonagall ended her address and somberly, woodenly, held out the necklaces with the pendants hanging from the plain silver chains.

One by one, her students accepted her summons to war. One by one, she watched as she assigned her charger to the possibility of a death they did not deserve.

And no sooner had the last student accepted their pendant did they all flare red in a plea for help, and one by one her students vanished from her sight, and students screamed throughout the hall.

**Draco:**

Draco was out of the seat and moving towards where Granger and the others had vanished before he had even realized what he was doing, and that his movement itself was pointless. They were gone, off to fight in a battle that was supposedly taking place somewhere around the world, and he was sitting here at Hogwarts. Useless.

Several people had screamed at the sudden disappearances of their classmates, but Draco's attention was only for McGonagall who looked…. Beaten.

Draco felt a draft of cold air at his shoulder and turned to see an absolutely  _livid_  Fred Weasley standing next to him. Why the ghost had chosen to haunt Draco, he'd no idea. But for the moment and the foreseeable feature it looked as though he was stuck with the ghost as a companion.

"Pack it in, mate," Draco muttered, "Killing the Headmistress isn't going to bring Little Red back from war."

Fred turned and gave him the stink eye. "Oh don't act like you aren't as pissed as I am about this whole situation!" he hissed.

Draco raised an eyebrow, why in Merlin's name would he be angry about it?

The look that Fred laid on him was absolutely disgusted, and the ghost rolled his eyes exaggeratedly before vanishing on the spot.

"Draco… was that… a Weasley twin?" Pansy asked, and her voice was about an octave or two higher than normal. Then again, given the fact that her boyfriend just disappeared to go and fight without so much as saying goodbye, Draco figured that she had a reason to be a bit miffed.

"Yes, the dead one."

"But-  _why?!"_

"Haven't the foggiest, I blame Granger."

Draco was still standing. He was still standing and his thoughts were moving much too quickly and if Pansy asked him one more question about why it was exactly that the ghost of Fred Weasley had chosen Draco as his new favorite companion then he just might hex her. He knew that he would eventually have to explain about the polyjuice and the visit to the Weasley Hovel, but he preferred to put it off for as long as possible. For all that Pansy seemed to have had a personality transplant, Draco just knew this wouldn't be something she could understand.

Draco also knew that he was focusing on his annoyance at Pansy in order to distract himself from the fact that Granger had effectively gone completely out of his range of protection. What would the hat do it him if something happened to Granger while she had gone somewhere that Draco couldn't follow? It's not like he could suddenly make him switch Houses, right?

Then again, the bloody hat could get inside his head whenever is pleased itself to, and having a magical object out to get him wasn't exactly something Draco thought would be good for his continued existence.

He did his best to put it out of his mind and set himself instead to looking out at the Great Hall at the mix of shock and fear- at the Headmistress who looked as though she had just send them all to their deaths. Which, she very well might have. No one was taking control, and there was something niggling at him in the back of his head reminding him that he was, actually, Head Boy and it was probably his responsibility to do something until McGonagall got her head out of the fog it was in.

_What would Granger do?_

Right. Panic Amulets.

Draco stood up and moved towards the dais, raising his voice over the din as he did so.

"All House Prefects approach the front of the Hall to grab a bag of the amulets. If both your prefects just disappeared into thin bloody air, then pick a different representative to get up here and do what needs doing."

It was odd. His voice sounded too loud in the room, and he didn't like the silence that followed his words or the way every pair of eyes was on his back. Weirder still was that he could hear movement, and it sounded like people were actually listening to him.

Odd.

The Headmistress gave him a nod and gathered herself before address the school leaders.

"Each bag is enchanted to produce however amulets are needed. Given the events of the past year I recommend that everyone should set the bags up in their common rooms and leave them available at all hours," she suggested, eyes heavy behind her horn rimmed glasses.

"What if someone steals them or destroys them?" asked a Ravenclaw that Draco had, quite frankly, never seen before in his life.

"I would assume that she has thought of that and already taken the necessary precautions," Draco drawled, he folded his arms and leaned a little against the podium completely at ease. Or at least that's what he wanted everyone to think.

"Yeah, no offense or anything, but the last time the teachers thought they had taken all necessary precautions in regards to an enchanted object, Potter ended up the second Hogwarts Champion."

That made his eyes raise up and Draco gave a speaker a second look over. She was tall, willowy, with a light splattering of freckles and brown-red hair. If it weren't for the 'better than thou' attitude she could definitely have passed off as being one of the Weasley's. Well, he supposed there was the pompous Weasley, she could easily be related to him. Maybe they were cousins? He should ask Fred.

"You might actually have a point with that statement," Draco agreed, raising his eyebrows at the Headmistress. She didn't look pleased.

"While I can understand your lack of faith, should something happen to the bags despite our precautions, we have extras, so all you will need to do is come by the office to pick up a replacement," control over the situation. "Now, will there be anything else? If not, I highly suggest you begin moving towards your classes."

This was going to be a long day, he just knew it.

And he was right.

All throughout classes Draco could feel the weight of the enchanted bag in his pocket, and all it did was serve as a reminder that the bag wasn't filling up the empty spaces left around them.

At glance, Draco could count several spots of desolation in the castle that should have been filled by those who were out throwing themselves into dangerous situations.

Granger. Dean. Potter. Granger. Weasley. Weasley. Lovegood. Granger. Finnegan. Longbottom. Granger.

Granger.

It was nearing the end of his final classes of the day (NEWT Potions) and the comforting setting of the dungeons did nothing to dispel the fact that he hadn't caught sight of her bushy head anywhere. And it shouldn't bother him, it shouldn't.

It's not as if the damned hat could blame him if the chit got harmed while off doing something stupid in a place where Draco wasn't allowed to follow, right? So Draco was free to revel in his lack of protection detail, but it still felt off. And he didn't jerk up his head whenever a door opened, or someone's cauldron made a loud popping sound- he didn't.

Portkey's didn't even make a popping sound Draco, you idiot. He shook his head attempting to clear it but to no avail. There was just nothing to be done about his potion, he couldn't concentrate, and so he vanished the contents altogether.

The lack of reprimand from Slughorn drew his attention to the fact that he obviously was not the only one who had done so. Everyone had finally ceased their work and was instead looking about at the small amount of people present.

Even the Pratil twins had gone off to fight, leaving the rest of them behind to wait.

**Evening, After Dinner**

**Daphne:**

When everyone had gone back to their Houses after the last class of the day to drop off their books and head off to dinner, the House representatives had dropped of the bags of medallions.

Some speech was given about how everyone should take them even if they felt that they should be safe because of their family status or whatever- Daphne wasn't really listening. She was torn between wondering why in Salazar's name the others hadn't returned yet, and why these medallions had been made available to the students during the war.

It really was such a simple solution, wasn't it? You live is in danger, grab the medallion, and port away to safety.

Easy.

Why were these only popping up now? How many lives would have been save during the war if something like this had been handed out with a long-winded lecture about how no one was safe and not to let bravery keep you from taking such a simple precaution?

'Simple Precaution'.

The answer as to why these didn't exist before was quite obvious, when she thought about it. You Know Who had had control over the Ministry before he ever really made his move- thanks to the dilly-dallying of Fudge's days, of course. Perhaps these medallions had existed the whole war, but had been locked away in the Department of Mysteries, kept out of the hands of those who would need them by You Know Who's cronies?

Hatred towards that vile creature raged, and Daphne turned her back on the medallions and waited for Theo to return from grabbing his. Call it bravery, call it pride, call it stupidity- call it what you wish, but Daphne refused to fight this war with something that should have been around for those who had fallen before.

She and Theo walked down to the Great Hall in silence, each buried within their own thoughts, until someone stepped out in front of her, threw something around her neck, and muttered a spell before she'd even had time to register that something had happened.

When Daphne did look up, she saw Astoria, alone, standing before her with a defiant look upon her face- Theo was not so subtly moving backwards as though to give them some privacy, but she could see that while he was attempting to be polite, he also wasn't an idiot. He was readying his wand just in case.

Daphne dared to look away from her little sister and glanced down at what was thrown around her neck, and nearly gasped when she realized what it was.

It was one of the medallions.

Frustrated and enraged, although to be honest she wasn't quite sure why, Daphne tried to tear the thing off of her, but it wouldn't budge. Nor would the chain break, or be pulled back over her head.

"It's not going to come off, I spelled it," Astoria muttered, sounding slightly exasperated.

Daphne gulped back tears and forced herself to look up and meet the latest challenge before her. "Explain yourself."

She didn't miss the way that Astoria's eyes kept glancing around the hall to make sure that they were still alone, with the exception of Theo.

"I knew you wouldn't grab one for yourself."

"Yeah, and? Last I checked whether or not I live or die shouldn't really matter to you. I think you made that quite clear."

Daphne was refusing to let herself get her hopes up, she knew the type of world they lived in. But there was no denying the flash of hurt, and maybe even regret, that surfaced in her little sisters eyes. So perhaps things weren't as clear-cut as they seemed to be at first glance.

"I don't want you to die. And I don't want you to do something stupid like not protect yourself out of some kind of misguided pride or to spite everything you once stood for," Astoria paused, frustrated, before continuing. "As long as you're alive you have a chance to come back to the fold, come back home. All you need is enough time to come to your senses!"

Daphne closed her eyes, torn. Happy that her sister still cared, in her own way, and despair in the knowledge that there was no going back. She could tell Astoria that as far as their parents were concerned Daphne had marker herself for death and that nothing could redeem her in their eyes. That her last name had suddenly disappeared from all documents, that if anyone tried to refer to her as "Greengrass" they would suddenly choke on the very air they breathed.

But she didn't want to give up this connection, however frail, to her sister. Not yet. Because what Tori said of Daphne could go both ways. If Draco Malfoy was proof of anything it was that it is never too late to join the side of the Light.

"One condition."

Astoria looked up from checking the hall once again to meet her gaze with eyes of steel, the soft blonde hair they both shared doing little to make her appearance less severe.

"One condition and I won't find a way to get this damned thing off me, and I'll use it if the time comes."

"And what might that be?"

"You wear one too, and I spell it just like you did mine."

A small smile graced Astoria's lips and her shoulders relaxed slightly. She then pulled out the medallion she was already wearing and smirked, allowing Daphne to cast her spells.

After it was done Astoria turned and left without a word, once again with a solid ice wall up between she and her sister. Theo came up to stand next to her, eyebrows raised.

"Well, what do you make of that?"

"I haven't the foggiest."

**Nearing Midnight**

**Hermione:**

She didn't want to talk about it. She didn't want to think about it.

All of them were silent and somber as they walked back up the castle steps and through the halls, separating as they each reached their destinations. Hermione felt like a ghost as she floated through the hallways and finally the Slytherin common room. She noticed that some people were still up, waiting and curious, but ignored them and only nodded to Dean who moved to the boy's dormitories.

Malfoy was waiting for her on the sofa by the fire, and he leapt to his feet when she entered. She was dirty and covered in bloodstains and other things she couldn't even name, but she didn't want to think about it. She felt herself move to the sofa and plop down into the seat. She could see the fire flickering but was unable to focus on the flames.

"I don't want to talk about it," she muttered.

Malfoy slowly sat down next to her, as if he were afraid of her or something. Then she felt his hand on hers and startled- before realizing that he was attempting to take her wand away and put it down. She let him disarm her. She hadn't even noticed that she'd still held it as though she'd expected to have to fire another spell any second. She felt him relax as soon as the wand was on the table, and why could she feel him but couldn't feel herself?

"Alright… can you tell me if everyone came back alive?"

"Yes."

"But you don't want to talk about it?"

"I don't want to talk about it."

"Very well then."

Several things then happened at once. He waved his wand in her direction and suddenly she felt much cleaner, then her shoes popped off her feet and her clothes transfigured themselves into something close to what she had worn to sleep the night before. Then Winky appeared with hot chocolate and some sandwiches- Hermione hadn't even heard him call for her. Why was Draco Malfoy able to call and command her house elf?

"She will listen to anyone who is interested in taking care of you, it's part of their nature. Right now it appears that that person would be me."

He had answered her question… had she asked that out loud without realizing it?

"Yes, you did. You've been doing quite a bit of talking actually, but I believe we aren't talking about it. Now, if you would like to stop narrating everything that's happening and potentially embarrassing yourself even more, you need to eat this and then we are going to bed."

She wasn't sure if it was the fact that all her decisions we being made for her and that obeying required no thought on her part, or that she truly just trusted Draco, but she found herself doing exactly what he said. He was kind of sweet when he acted like this, although she didn't even want to analyze the whole 'we are going to bed' statement because that just led to whole other terrifying avenues and nope, no thank you, we do not need to be investigating her complicated feelings towards Draco this evening.

She heard Draco choke behind her, "Oh god,  _please stop talking!"_


	31. Chapter 31

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: Hi it’s me again! I bet you weren’t expecting to see me again… SURPRISE! Okay so I’ve realized that a lot of my problems with getting this fic written is that I’m ridiculously impatient to get to the parts I’m excited about. There’s only so much plot-laying a girl can do before she either has to get to the good bits or scrap the work entirely. So, we are moving full speed ahead to the good parts. Now, saying that, hold onto your hats people. We are doing this thing. This chapter won’t have much dialogue because I’m packing several chapters worth of character development for everyone into one big, bad, meta, thinking sessions for everyone. YAY META.

**November 3 rd, Draco:**

Once again they woke up entangled with one another. Draco used this term loosely, waking up implied that he had fallen asleep in the first place, and he hadn’t. It wasn’t because he was uncomfortable curled up on the couch with Granger, quite the opposite really.

In his arms he held a dirty, bushy haired girl with tear tracks down her face that had come home from fighting a war that no one was really sure was happening in the first place- and he was comfortable. She was too skinny from months of not eating enough so her bones dug into his flesh, she hogged the blanket, and was determined to use his chest as her pillow despite the fact that there wasn’t really enough room on the small sofa for her to really do so- and despite the fact that he hadn’t slept a wink, he felt more at peace that morning than he had in… years.

Draco had spent much of the night contemplating this new development, and as he worked on committing the smell of her hair to his memory, Draco Malfoy was forced to admit to himself certain truths that he had been in denial about for a very, very long time.

He admired her intelligence. This woman who had come from not knowing the magical world existed and then worked tirelessly to make sure that was never to her disadvantage. She was the ‘brightest witch of their age’ as the media was so fond of calling her, and Hermione Granger had more than earned the title. If Draco was being honest with himself, and that was the whole point of this exercise was it not, he had been fascinated by Granger since the beginning of Hogwarts. Granted in his earlier years that fascination was very much replaced by jealousy- why should this girl who had no previous knowledge of magic be able to best him in classes- something happened in third year that changed things.

She decked him.

Now Draco wasn’t going to say that this made him suddenly adore the chit, but it did make him have a certain respect for her. And although he grew increasingly antagonistic towards her, it was most likely only to mask the fact that he thought way too much about Potter and his two friends. Particularly the friend that could have used any number of curses to decimate him to bits, and instead settled for the physical satisfaction of breaking his face with her fist.

Not that any of that mattered now, not really. Although, Draco couldn’t help but yearn to know if Granger ever wondered who it was that had floated the piece of paper to her in second year- the ripped page out of a book from Flourish and Blott’s that gave the description of a Basilisk.

Would that make her think better of him? Or would it not be enough to change anything? Did he even want to have anything changed, or was he content in the knowledge that although he might not be sure of what those feelings meant, Draco Malfoy felt for Hermione Granger.

Perhaps that could be enough.

Of course, his musings were interrupted when the newest fixture in Draco’s life made an early morning appearance in their living room.

“Well,” Fred said, much too loudly and cheerfully for this hour. “Isn’t this just cozy?”

Draco glared at the ghost and signaled for him to shut his gob before he awoke Hermione, but it was too late. She moved slowly, as if unwilling to leave her sleep behind. Draco watched her every move carefully- how her tiny little hands stayed just a moment longer on his clothed chest than was necessary, the way she delicately lifted herself up and away from him, and how her eyes filled with something foreign when she finally tilted her head in his direction.

Their eyes locked and Draco thought he could stay hours like this, completely silent and unmoving, because he would be damned if he spoke too soon or moved too suddenly and scared her away. They’d been avoiding talking about everything that had transpired between them so far (ignoring her monologue from the night before, but that didn’t count because it was rather one sided) and he dared for just a moment to hope that this might be the moment that changed.

And then Fred cleared his throat, Granger squeaked, and off she ran to her bedroom and slammed the door.

“Sorry to barge in,” Fred said, although it was quite clear that he was anything but. “But did she happen to mention anything about Ron or Ginny?”

Draco sniffed, “She was quite adamant that she didn’t want to talk about it, although she did mention that everyone came back alive.”

For some reason this news didn’t seem to cheer the ghost up any.

“If that is that case, perhaps you could explain to me why I cannot find them anywhere inside the castle?”

Well. That was mildly concerning, wasn’t it?

“Perhaps they went back to your weasel nest? Or do they have reason to be in… in the Room of Hidden Things?”

Fred chewed his lip as he floated in circles. He was wearing the robes he had died in and they were quite clearly damaged in some places from stone tearing the fabric. Luckily the wounds that killed him weren’t visible- although nothing could be done for the poor ghost’s hair.

“I would know if they went home, and I thought that room was damaged beyond repair?” he asked.

“Well, I’m not sure where they are, but if the Weasel is alone with Little Red I believe you should probably fear for his life. Last I checked she was marching herself to detention after hitting him with that hex she loves so much.”

Fred went about muttering how Draco was no help at all before vanishing, leaving Draco to try and figure out just when exactly it started being alright for the ghost to come to him for help in the first place.

 

**Ginny:**

It was possible that the others were worried about her, but she hoped that they would respect her decision to seek out her brother alone. When the group of weary students had finally returned to the castle that night, Ginny had motioned for Harry to go on and dragged Ron off to walk the grounds with her.

They walked for hours in silence, Ginny refusing to open the dialogue and Ron probably having no idea where to start. Before she realized it, they ended up walking down the long tunnel to the Shrieking Shack, where they once again sat in silence for several long hours.

If she were being honest with herself, they weren’t so much sitting as napping, but that was neither here nor there.

It wasn’t long after daybreak when Ron finally found the courage to speak up, although the words he chose weren’t wheat she was expecting.

“Harry won’t speak to me. When we were fighting earlier today we fell right back into sync with each other, it was just like old times, but he didn’t say a word to me.”

Alright, if that’s how they were going to do this. “Do you blame him? I don’t recall you speaking to Hermione at all while we were there either.”

“She hates me.”

“Again, do you blame her?” she asked gently.

Ron put his face in his hands and rubbed his tired eyes. It didn’t look like he’d be sleeping well at all, and he had lost some weight. His hair was no longer the flaming Weasley red, it had dulled somehow. He wasn’t healthy, and as much as she wanted to toss him to the Whomping Willow, he was still her brother.

“That’s just it, they deserve to hate me. Everyone does. Merlin knows I do.”

And this was where Ginny started to get frustrated, because none of it made any sense.

“Then what the hell is your problem? Is it because you’re still in love with her and it didn’t work out? Is that why you’re being so vile and vitriolic? Morgana’s frumpy breasts, Ron, it’s not like Hermione _asked_ to be put in Slytherin! The Hat just chucked her there and was done with it! And even if she had chosen Slytherin, who bloody cares?! It’s just a House, it shouldn’t matter!”

Ron looked her directly in the eye then and shifted her entire world view.

“You’re right, it shouldn’t, but it does, doesn’t it?”

Ginny said nothing and continued to glare at her brother.

“You can feel it too, can’t you? The instinct not to trust her now? The moment her robe colors changed this, this _stupid bloody feeling creeped up my arms and she just doesn’t feel right anymore!”_

At that outburst Ron lurched to his feet and ran his fingers through his hair in a move that vaguely reminded Ginny of Harry.

“I know it doesn’t makes sense, and I swear I can’t explain my actions any more that you can. Each time it happens it’s like I open my mouth to speak and something completely different comes out. I feel like I’m losing my bloody mind, Gin, and I can’t help it! You’re right that I still love her, but not like that. Merlin, when I saw that the village her parents lived in was attacked, the first thing I did was rush to her side. But then she sides with Malfoy and Parkinson and it’s like my vision goes black.”

Ron slumped back down onto the dusty old sofa, defeated. And Ginny didn’t like the thoughts spiraling in her own mind after his little speech.

He wasn’t wrong about there being an odd feeling towards everyone. Just last week hadn’t she fought with herself for doubting Hermione’s motivations? Hasn’t there been an odd chill touching everything and everyone and forcing them all to doubt each other?

Ginny had tried to chalk it up to post-war paranoia, but what if it wasn’t? If everyone was feeling the same mistrust towards each other, doesn’t that mean that there is a reason for it? There weren’t all crazy, they couldn’t be.

“So what do you think the problem is, Ron? And once you figure that out you need to decide if whatever it is, is worth risking your friends and family over.”

At that Ron looked up, dreadful and panicked.

Ginny moved slowly from her hunched over position and towards the exit.

“I mean it, Ron. We all love you, but there’s only so much love can do before we say goodbye altogether. Don’t be the next Percy.”

**Hermione:**

Normally whenever she had a problem, the first thing she would do is go to the library. Books held the answer to all problems- didn’t they? Words hold power, and power solves problems. This was the simple equation that Hermione Jean Granger had been using since the day her mother had given her her first book.

But what would she even use as the research topic for this?

Hermione wandered the dusty stacks and made a valiant attempt to sort out her priorities. Yesterday they’d been back at war, and it was the first time that her head had felt truly clear in ages. It was the same feeling she’d had when she had blasted through McGonagall’s wards- and Merlin didn’t that feel as though it had happened ages ago. Had it really only been a month or so?

She leaned against a bookcase (somewhere in the section dedicated to old Mermish history, Hermione had lived here for a while after the Second Tri-Wizard Challenge, she’d been curious about what she’d missed while she was asleep) and attempted to catch her breath. Time was making her feel weary- and when last had she eaten? A quick glance down at her too loose sweater shamed her, perhaps it was time to let someone else take care of her after all.

_Focus, Hermione, you’re getting off track._

She shook her head to try and regain control of her mind, it was like she couldn’t keep focus anymore, and her thought process was so wild.

Try again.

In battle yesterday her mind had been completely under her control, clear headed and full or purpose. Was that what she was lacking? Purpose? Or did the adrenaline from the fight just give her a fix of life and freedom? Would she forever be chasing one fight after another in order to feel like herself? This wasn’t a prospect she found very comforting.

Or maybe it’s just that in battle you have no choice but to strip away all that isn’t necessary and focus on what matters- staying alive.

Either way, Hermione craved clarity now more than ever, especially when it came to Draco Malfoy.

There was something there, no denying it. Of course Hermione hadn’t the slightest notion as to what exactly that something was, but it certainly wasn’t hate. Not anymore. Could it just be that the two of them had been lumped together and now they were doing their damnedest to survive?

But no, that couldn’t be it. They were all good at surviving… it was living that was the problem. Hadn’t they just spoken about how none of them knew how to live? None of their generation had any idea how to function without a war roiling around their every move.

How do you make a choice when it wasn’t life or death? If there is nothing pressing the matter, how did one gather the bravery in order to take the next step? Was that why she was no longer a Gryffindor, she was too much of a coward to try and live her own life?

A sudden, unreasonable, flare of anger and jealousy went through her. Of course Ginny had no fear about living her life- she had no consequences to face! She had a huge family that could protect themselves in the wizarding world, who could support her in turn! She had Harry bloody Potter guarding her every step and ensuring that no matter what her happiness came first before anything! She was naturally liked by everyone, she didn’t have to fight for every ounce of respect and friendship!

Hermione was beginning to work herself into a right and proper rage when suddenly a ghost flew across her vision- and the memory of Fred surfaced.

She was ashamed.

Ginny’s family was clearly at as much of a risk as everyone else’s… and hadn’t Harry just a few nights ago attacked his best friend for threatening Hermione’s happiness? The anger and jealousy vanished as though it had never been there before and left Hermione shaking. What in the name of Merlin was wrong with her?

She steadied herself and marched off in the direction of the Gryffindor common room to see Harry- he was sure to need her to research something in order to figure out who exactly their enemy was, and why they were there in the first place.

**November 4 th – December 4th **

At first the students would only vanish to fight about once a week but as December got closer and the temperatures dropped, the attacks became more frequent and they were fighting every other day. Relationships between couples, friends, professors, family, and Houses all became strained as this war against an invisible enemy took its toll.

None could find any rhyme or reason in the attacks, other than that it was clear that members of the Order of the Phoenix and supporters of the Dark Lord were both being targeted. Attempts to discover the hidden agenda of the attackers were hindered by both parties refusal to work together, the only piece of information with any hints being a letter from an unnamed Azkaban prisoner, delivered anonymously by an unnamed third party.

“Harry Potter, Hermione Granger, and Ron Weasley- the Golden Trio once again fighting valiantly to protect the Wizarding World” became an almost daily headline across all news sources, although there was no mention of the tension between the three.

With the students evening out Ministry numbers, casualties began to drop. Efforts were made to recruit more Ministry officials, but it would still be a while before the students would no longer be needed outside of Hogwarts.

On December 1st the attacks mysteriously stopped, leaving everyone jumpy an anxious over the reason, everyone anticipating and fearing whatever it is their Invisible Enemy has planned for them next.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN:  
> Alrighty, and that will bring us to our next chapter in which I can FINALLY get the ball rolling. I’m sorry if this chapter seems bit lackluster but as I said before, it was either throw out a lot of information at once or scrap the story altogether. I figured this option was the least likely to result in torches and pitchforks. LOVE YOU ALL!


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